Once Upon a Time in Vermont
by FluentSarcasm
Summary: Already published on my tumblr blog, now uploading here. As the title suggests, this is Olitz in Vermont, completely AU. Its also essentially all fluff and smuff (smut fluff) because we get enough angst on the show, so F that noise. Filed under PWP (Plot, What Plot?) as it essentially will be a bunch of vignettes throughout different stages of Olitz's relationship. Enjoy!
1. Where They First Met

**The One Where They First Met**

It was love at first sight.

The caramel-skinned goddess with brown eyes the size of saucers stole Fitzgerald Grant's heart the instant he walked through the glass doors of their local DMV. Shiny black hair curled around her shoulders like a luxurious silk scarf and her long bright red dress emphasized every inch of her feminine curves. The nostrils on her adorable button nose flared with irritation as she tapped her flat sandal-clad foot impatiently on the linoleum floor, drawing his attention to polish on her toes that perfectly matched her frock. He was immediately drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, and struck by her ethereal beauty; seemingly floating to stand directly behind her in line.

His mouth opened and words came out, but something lame and stupid like "come here often?" because apparently he had taken a time machine back to middle school when he didn't have any game.

Clearly not in the mood for small talk, the goddess feigned a quick smile in his direction that didn't quite meet her eyes, obviously hoping to deter him. But Fitz was determined. He couldn't stop, he couldn't shut up, not even if he wanted to, not even if he tried – this feeling that overcame him was unlike any he'd ever felt before in his life.

He talked incessantly, which was so unlike him, commenting on the unseasonably humid Vermont summer they were currently experiencing and explaining – unprompted – that his license had expired more than 2 months prior but he hadn't bothered to get it renewed until now.

"Don't tell anyone," he quipped, eliciting a genuine – albeit small – smile from her that nearly struck him dumb and blind by its splendor. Typical of the DMV, the line moved slower than molasses and he powered on, ignoring her closed-off body language as he talked about anything and everything that came to mind. His eager persistence soon paid off as he quickly discovered she was studying for her MBA at UVM and working as a TA for a family friend.

Already a huge fan of his job as an adjunct professor of political science (certainly more than his other job as a junior partner at his father's local law firm), Fitz sent a quick prayer of thanks to the universe for this remarkable coincidence and made a mental note to call his buddy Cyrus later for more information. Fitz knew if he asked her out now like he was dying to she would shut him down, even though he also knew that he was a good-looking man who had never lacked for female companionship throughout his adult life. Virtually every woman he had ever wanted, he'd eventually had. But something had _always_ been missing, including with his most serious ex-girlfriend, Mellie. None of them, no matter how beautiful or loving, made him want him to NOT be with anyone else. None of them made him feel the way his mother had always told him he should feel when he met the love of his life – vibrantly alive and unconditionally devoted. A hopeless romantic through and through, Fitz knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had never felt that kind of love before.

Until the day he met Her.

She was The One. Any woman he had ever been with paled in comparison to this indescribable vision before him, whose name he didn't even know. Even the tone of her soft, quiet voice elicited emotions in him he'd never thought possible mere moments after meeting someone. And he knew if he let her go, he would regret it as long as he lived.

Suddenly the front of the line was upon them and he could feel her slipping away.

It was now or never.

Grinning (because he was aware of the effect his smile had on women), he extended his hand to her and said warmly; "I'm Fitz."

She hesitated, those doe eyes and long lashes peering down at his outstretched hand suspiciously for several long beats before sliding back up to meet his gaze. The second their eyes met, his throat went dry and his cock hardened in his pants so quickly he prayed she wouldn't look down again or he'd embarrass himself even more than he already had. What an effect this stranger had on him. Finally, thankfully, she smiled that small smile again and shook his hand. "Olivia."

"It was nice to meet you Olivia," he said as the warmth of her touch radiated through his body like a blinding ray of sunlight. His thumb lightly stroked the outside of her palm as their hands pulled back and he immediately shoved his into his pocket to prevent his throbbing prick from tenting his pants. "I hope I see you around campus."

He was going to do everything that he could to make sure he did.

That's because Fitz Grant was nothing if not tenacious and it certainly didn't hurt that one of his best friends, Cyrus Beene, was a dean at their university. There was only one Olivia in the MBA program and by lunchtime Fitz knew exactly where to find his mysterious beauty. Calculated "accidental" run-ins made him feel pathetic, desperate and needy, not to mention decades younger than his 32 years, but he was so inexplicably, undeniably drawn to Olivia he didn't care.

That first run-in, her initial surprise quickly wore off to what appeared to be her usual demeanor of aloof but polite, just as she had been that first day at the DMV. His office was only a short walk from the building where hers was located, and it truly wasn't a complete stretch for him to regularly pass through, so he quickly made a habit of stopping by to say hi, make small conversation, and get his fill just staring at her. He could tell that she wanted to tell him to go fuck himself but it was apparently against her nature. The first month or so, she did her best to dodge him, often blowing him off, clearly desperate for him to get the hint. But with each rejection and each passing day, he grew more and more determined. He saw his whole future in those brown eyes. Her smile – when she did smile – completely arrested him. And those lips – God how he'd dreamt of feasting on those luscious full lips of hers. He ached to know how she tasted, how she felt beneath him. Her intelligence, her humor, her wit – when she let her guard down, when she let him see those glimpses of her personality – he found her to be the most fascinating woman in the entire world, even more so than his mother, to whom he had become convinced no other female could ever compare. But of Olivia, Fitz could not get enough. They belonged together, he was as sure of it as he was his own name.

Sometime in October, as he was gearing up for midterms, Fitz noticed she'd finally stopped brushing him off. She finally stopped buying her own Starbucks, in anticipation of the fact that he _always_ got her tall decaf cappuccino (two sugars) when he picked up his double shot espresso. And she stayed to chat now, finally allowing herself to laugh at his jokes. He could tell that she looked forward to seeing him, that she enjoyed his company; that her gaze lingered on him when she thought he wasn't looking – and sometimes even when she knew he was.

Now he was certain – if he asked her out, she would say yes. All of his persistence and hard work the last two months was going to pay off.

He just knew it.

It was only a matter of time.


	2. Where Fitz Finally Wears Olivia Down

**The One Where Fitz Finally Wears Olivia Down**

Early one October afternoon, without preamble or pretense, Fitzgerald Grant finally wore Olivia Pope down with a coltish grin and a simple self-assured command.

"Go out with me."

It might have been the way the sun bounced off his hair or something in the autumn mountain air, but Olivia finally felt compelled to say yes. The word was actually on the tip of her tongue. This man had come into her life out of nowhere, so suddenly and enthusiastically that she, being her parents' daughter, was immediately suspicious. No one was that nice right off the bat, not even in New England.

Now here she was, a few days before Halloween, outside the library staring up at him, finally allowing herself the opportunity to appreciate just how tall and broad and strikingly handsome he was. Now that she was deciding to be honest with herself, Liv realized that she had thought so all along.

"Go out with you," she repeated. Buying time, really. She nervously fidgeted with the hem of her sweater for lack of anything better to do with her hands.

Fitz smirked and her stomach clenched, which she also finally admitted to herself was actually quite a common occurrence around him. So – uh oh.

"Yeah, let me take you out for a real meal. You deserve better than Starbucks."

Liv found herself grinning like a schoolgirl, nodding as the word spilled out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Okay." She immediately cursed herself for sounding so eager.

The look of surprise on his face was so genuine she burst out laughing. He'd been making her laugh a lot lately, which was nice and honestly quite a turn on. She couldn't remember the last man who made her laugh so much. "Funny" would never be one of the first words to describe _any_ of her ex-boyfriends. That too she also blamed on her parents.

"Seriously?!" He asked somewhat incredulously.

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

Fitz chuckled. "Oh I don't know. Maybe because most of the time we've known one another you've treated me like I was some kind of pest." She laughed out loud, but inwardly admonished herself for her prior aloof, disrespectful behavior – something else that had been conditioned within her from a young age.

But somehow she hadn't scared him off. In fact, Fitz appeared to grow even more interested the more they got to know one another. She had shallowly, self-protectively chalked it up to "men like the chase" but was now capable of admitting that they had a connection, plain and simple.

And even as, ever her parents' child, she rolled her eyes at the cliché of that statement, she acknowledged and accepted it as truth. And anxiously, eagerly welcomed it. Moving to Vermont had been her fresh start, her chance to define herself away from her parents and their world. She hadn't wanted to accept it at the time, but less than a week after she moved into her charming little Burlington apartment – a vast change from the luxe Georgetown manse in which she'd been raised – she'd met this man who stood before her, who fascinated her endlessly, who made her mouth water – someone whose presence in her life was as unexpected then as it was shockingly appreciated now.

He asked her out and she said yes.

The realization thrilled her.

"A very tall and handsome pest," he continued quite immodestly, "But a pest nonetheless."

Liv shrugged, hoping that if she acted nonchalant she could steady the butterflies in her belly. "I'm slow to warm up to people."

Understatement of the century, of course.

"Ahhhh." Those gorgeous blue eyes of his lit up with delight and she nearly swooned.

_Jesus, Olivia!_ She thought to herself. _Get your shit together!_

"So you admit you've warmed up to me."

She loved this banter between them, how genuinely _fun_ he was to talk to. Being raised by Eli and Maya Pope – two of the most powerful and well-connected people in DC society – had made Olivia rather uptight and neurotic, and she envied Fitz's easygoing nature.

He raked a hand through his curly hair and she essentially drooled.

"Yeah," she said, shrugging a shoulder, impressing herself with how casual she sounded. "What can I say, you finally wore me down."

"Good," he said simply, his expression serious as their eyes met. The look he gave her literally took her breath away. She was really starting to kick herself for not saying yes sooner.

Fitz told her he'd pick her up right after her last class ended at 5PM, and she fretted that she didn't have time to go home and change. But he insisted, swearing that he'd waited too long to take her out and he didn't want to wait another day. He had a generous, gentle soul, Olivia decided, this intangible quality she couldn't quite put her finger on that she had noticed – and tried to ignore – from the moment their eyes locked in the DMV.

Sneaking out of her last class ten minutes early, Liv went to the ladies room and agonized over her appearance in the mirror, wishing she had done more with her hair than the high sloppy bun it was in now. While not even remotely sexy or close to what she'd choose to wear on a date if she had more than three hours notice, her skinny black jeans, flat black booties and oversized grey sweater were comfortable, if a little too "cute" for a first date with such a stud. Refusing to dwell because he'd seen what she wore and asked her out anyway, Olivia bustled around in her makeup bag for her favorite red lipstick before deciding that it would just make her look like she was trying too hard. After applying a generous amount of mascara, a dollop of clear lip gloss and her favorite perfume at her pulse points, Liv decided this was as good as it was going to get and headed out to meet Fitz.

Ever punctual, he was waiting for her right at 5 outside her office and looked liked pure sex leaning up against his decade-old Range Rover with a half grin, hands stuffed in his pockets. And there her stomach went, clenching up again.

"God you're gorgeous," he marveled as she approached.

Olivia blushed despite herself because she had just been thinking the same exact thing about him. Suddenly awash in nerves, she pushed down the panic, reminding herself to breathe. The truth was that she'd never dated a white man before and could only imagine what her parents would think. And then she cursed herself because part of the reason she'd rejected their friend's prestigious job offer and moved to Vermont for a year was because she had _always_ cared _too_ much what her folks thought and felt suffocated under their thumb.

She'd been drawn to Fitz since the day they met. _He_ was the gorgeous one: six feet two, blue eyes, silky curls and a build just brawny enough to make her mouth water, especially now when she could see the rippling muscles of his back through his lightweight wool sweater. A strong build on a tall man had always been her weakness. "You're not so bad yourself, Professor Grant." She winked as he opened the passenger door for her before going back around to the driver's side. "And such a gentleman."

He shrugged a shoulder; a careless gesture that was still so masculine Liv felt her stomach clench again in that familiar way. "My mama raised me right." He turned to wink at her as he drove off, weaving out of campus toward a road that went up into the mountains.

"Where are we going?" Liv asked, looking out the window as the city rolled by.

"You'll see."

They traveled in easy silence for the next twenty-five minutes, driving up into the mountains, leaving the city below.

Leaning back into her seat, Liv studied Fitz's profile out of the corner of her eye.

There was something about this man.

She didn't know what yet, not exactly.

And she didn't know what specifically had changed in _her_; why _today_ had been the day she'd given in to him, finally let her guard down.

She felt safe with him.

Miracle of miracles, she didn't want to question why.

She just wanted to _be_ – and trust that unmistakable, unshakeable feeling in her gut that her life was about to change forever.


	3. With Their First Date

**The One With Their First Date**

Olivia rolled down the window and dropped her head back against the seat, closing her eyes as the cool autumn air billowed in her face. They rode in complete silence, not even the radio on, no sound but the road beneath the tires and the wind whizzing by as they ascended further into the mountains. She had no idea where they were going and could not care less, her heart pounding with excitement as she marveled over how much fun she was already having and the date had barely just begun.

Suddenly the truck slowed and Liv opened her eyes as Fitz pulled off the main road onto a narrow dirt slit that weaved through a low canopy of trees. At any other point in her life, Liv knew the frantic beat of her pulse would be from fear of being raped, murdered and buried out on a remote Vermont mountainside. But she trusted Fitz, inexplicably, and before she could even process where they were, the Range Rover broke through the tree line into an expansive clearing and Olivia was struck dumb by the view laid out before them. All of Burlington sprawled below, Lake Champlain in the distance, an endless vista of mountains expanding out as far as the eye could see. The shocking gold color on the horizon signaled sunset's imminent arrival and a thrill went through Liv as she turned to regard Fitz.

She was so flabbergasted the first words out of her mouth were, "What happened to that real meal you promised me?"

He smirked, jerking his head in the direction of the trunk as he shut off the engine. "It's back there."

Then he was out of the car and coming around to open her door. Liv ignored both the thrill his inherent chivalry gave her (although surely her parents, mother in particular, would approve) and the sizzle she felt shoot through her arm when she placed her hand in his and he helped her out of the SUV.

Nodding his head toward the steep cliff about fifty yards to their left, he said, "Pick a spot. I'll get the food."

"_Oookay_," Liv said, feeling rather uncertain and shy as she regarded the area and tried to seek out the perfect spot. Almost immediately, a somewhat tall, large boulder caught her eye and she plunked herself against it as she accessed the view, deciding it was more than adequate. In fact, it took her breath away.

Satisfied, she turned back to check on Fitz, but stopped short when she saw he was only a few feet behind her. She hadn't even heard him approach. A huge picnic basket dangled from one arm with an oversized plaid blanket draped over the other.

And suddenly it dawned on her. Instead of the clichéd first date dinner at a fancy restaurant, which is exactly what she had been expecting, Fitz had driven her up into the mountains for a sunset picnic.

Was this man even real?

As she stared at him with incredulity, his eyes darkened, his expression suddenly so intense her throat went dry.

_Oh my God_, she thought somewhere in the back of her mind.

"Let's just get this out of the way." His voice was so deep her stomach clenched as he dropped the basket and blanket where he stood and he reached for her.

She barely had time to react before her face was in his hands and his mouth was on hers, slowly, erotically forcing her lips open to slurp her tongue into his mouth. Responding immediately, as if on autopilot, Liv moaned long and low, leaning up on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck to thread her fingers through his hair as he pushed her up against the boulder, absolutely ravishing her mouth.

And just like that she was his.

There was no going back.

Fitz claimed her mouth and with that first hot, mind-blowing, back-bending, soul-crushing kiss, she knew he had claimed her heart.

Her fingers raked over his scalp as one of his hands slipped from her face down her throat, cupping her breast through her sweater as it slid its way around her waist to cup her ass. Liquid warmth pooled between her thighs and somewhere in the back of her mind, Olivia marveled over how Fitz's touch made her feel more alive and more powerful than any man before him. They kissed like that for minutes, maybe hours, breaking away just long enough to breathe before diving back in all over again. She felt wild and carefree and awestruck as she clung to him, arching her body into his as he nibbled on her lower lip and made love to her mouth like he'd been doing it for years.

Finally, seemingly reluctantly, Fitz clutched her biceps in his hands, pushing her back just enough to drop his forehead to hers, gulping lungful's of air. "Wow," he rasped breathlessly.

"Wow," she echoed, closing her eyes as the sensations washed over her. She never believed a kiss could be that spectacular. There were literally no words to describe how wonderful she felt, there in his arms, on the top of some random Vermont mountain at sunset.

His fingers lightly traced her jaw as they stared openly at one another and she felt overwhelmed, overcome with emotion by the intensity of his expression. Those blue eyes, she quickly decided, are her absolutely favorite feature of his. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she wondered with a nervous laugh.

His thumb brushed her lower lip and she watched his eyes dart there, heard his groan before he leaned in to suck the plump flesh into his mouth. She whimpered, clutching his shoulders, digging her nails into the fabric of his sweater as she leaned into him and they lost themselves in another deep, soul shattering kiss.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life," Fitz whispered when they pulled away and he stared into her brown eyes lit golden from the sunset. "That first moment that I saw you…" His voice cut off suddenly and she watched him swallowed unexpected emotion. "Thank you for saying yes, Livvie."

It was the first time that he called her Livvie, and it touched her more than she could ever imagine. She pulled him into another kiss and clung to him as he molded his hands over the curves of her body, yanking her up and into his so she could feel every hard, masculine angle.

"Fitz," she heard herself say as he nibbled on her neck and she clutched fistfuls of his hair. She wanted him, she was delirious with it, and knew if asked she would do absolutely anything for him in that moment.

"I swear I didn't bring you here for this," he chuckled as he brought his head up to look into her eyes again. "Its just… One taste of you, Livvie…."

His eyes dropped to her lips again and she smiled, her heart clenching in her chest.

"Tell me about it," Liv murmured wryly. "Why didn't I want to go out with you again?" She laughed.

His expression was so solemn when he cupped her face in his hands and gazed at her. "I don't know but I'm so glad you finally did." A quick peck on the lips left her thirsty for more. "You were worth the wait, Livvie."

Standing there in his arms with the sun setting behind them, Olivia Pope stared into his eyes; completely drunk on his kisses and one hundred-percent certain that was the moment she fell in love with Fitzgerald Grant.


	4. With Seven Dates in Seven Days

**The One With Seven Dates In Seven Days **

Fitz hadn't intended to kiss Olivia, at least not right away; but the sun at her back had given her the golden glow of an angel and the impulse to feast on those plush lips could not be denied a second longer. The instant their lips met she was his; and her taste, her touch, and her scent were better than a thousand day dreams. She fit perfectly against him, felt so good in his embrace he was convinced they'd been put on this Earth for the soul purpose of loving each other.

Eventually they pulled themselves apart long enough for Fitz to lay out the blanket and present her with her promised "real meal" – sandwiches from her favorite Burlington deli and his mother's legendary potato salad. There'd been wine too, because she'd mentioned how much she loved a good bottle of red. So they drank and ate and laughed and talked and _kissed_ as night fell and the moon and stars sparkled in the sky.

Eventually the chill in the mountain air was too crisp to ignore and they reluctantly packed up, walking hand-in-hand back to his jeep, where he reflexively pulled open the passenger door for her yet again.

Liv smirked, grabbing him by his collar to pull his body into hers. "You don't have to keep doing that, Fitz. I can open my own doors."

"I know you can," he whispered, tracing the delicate line of her chin with his fingers. Her skin was porcelain smooth; her lips bee-stung from his kisses and with moonlight slanting across her face, she was so ethereally beautiful she took his breath away. "But you don't have to, not when you're with me."

Despite his mother's hippie-dippie disposition, she had instilled in him the importance of chivalry; demanding he always open the door, pick up the tab, offer his jacket, and walk on the outside of the sidewalk, to say the least. His father didn't have a chivalrous bone in his body, of course, and his mother had been hell-bent on assuring her son wouldn't be yet another in the long line of Grant men who subscribed to the "good ole boy" mentality.

Clearly touched by his stubborn gallantry, Liv leaned up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into another long, languid, lazy kiss. He dropped the basket and blanket at their feet so he could frame her face and suckle her lower lip into his mouth, deepening the kiss and losing himself in the taste of her all over again. Having dreamt of a night like this since the day they met, Fitz couldn't believe it was finally a reality. He was afraid to open his eyes, afraid to pull away, for fear this would all be revealed as a fantasy. The entire day had been too surreal for words. The distant, aloof Olivia he'd first met at the DMV – for whom he'd immediately fallen – was nothing like the warm, passionate Livvie in his arms now, damn near purring like a kitten as she arched her lithe body into his. She'd finally let down her guard; she was finally letting him in, finally offering him a glimpse of who she really was and God but he loved that woman already.

Pulling away reluctantly, Fitz dropped a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose. She grinned up at him, her eyes bright and shining, and he ached.

_I'm so fucking fucked_, he thought as he gazed at her. _One taste of her and I'm sprung for life._

Putting his chivalrous hat back on, he helped her into the truck and then stashed the blanket and basket in the back. Liv pinned him with her eyes as he climbed into the drivers seat, dragging that sexy lower lip through her teeth as she regarded him with a hooded gaze. His cock had been throbbing all night and her come-fuck-me expression wasn't doing it any favors.

"What's that look for?"

"I like you," she said simply.

Fitz ignored the thrill that shot through him and the way his heart seemed to squeeze in his chest, forcing himself to respond just as simply, "I like you too."

He couldn't help the grin as he turned the engine on and steered them out of the clearing. He watched her peering out the window at the view they left behind and his chest tightened at the sight. He hadn't been certain Olivia Pope was really the dinner-in-the-wilderness type, but chose to bet on the view, the sandwiches, her favorite wine and of course Mama Grant's killer potato salad to win her over. And thanks to the heavens and the Universe and God and fate and whoever, the gamble paid off in spades. The date had gone better than he'd ever expected and now the way she tasted and felt was forever seared into his memory.

"Do you bring all your girlfriends up here?"

Startled, Fitz turned his head to look at her, raising a brow. Any other time, any other woman, that question and the passive aggressively insecure possessiveness it implied would annoy him. But with Olivia – he found it sweet. And encouraging.

"Only my mom," he answered honestly. "Although never at sunset." As he steered them back onto the main mountain road, he winked at her. "That's reserved just for you." Her returning grin was brighter than the moon and made his dick throb against his thigh.

_Down boy_, he thought wryly. _Now is not the time._

They chatted easily the remainder of the ride back into Burlington, and when he pulled up to the quaint Victorian house moonlighting as her apartment building, he once again helped her out of the truck and walked her to the front door. Not wanting the date to end, Fitz found himself more fascinated with Olivia than ever. He knew with certainty that he was even more in love with her now after the evening they just shared.

"I had fun," she whispered as he pushed her up against the door, framing her chin with his thumb and forefinger.

He leaned his face in, their noses touching, and hovered his lips over hers just enough to breathe her in. Her scent was intoxicating and thrilling, his cock flexing at her quick intake of breath, the way her fingernails dug into his shoulders, the way she leaned up on the tips of her toes and arched her body into his.

She whimpered when he lightly teased her upper lip; and when his hand slid along her jaw into her hair, she gasped and he swallowed the sound whole, pulling her tongue between his lips as he expertly ravished her mouth. Her hands slid up into his curls to rake over his scalp, and he thought he would die from the ecstasy of it, nearly growling as he pushed her harder up against the door, slanting his body into hers so that she could feel just how deep his attraction to her ran. They kissed like a couple of love struck teenagers, briefly breaking the surface to breathe before diving back under the depths.

Eventually Fitz reluctantly pulled himself away and forced himself to say good night, but not before insuring that she made it inside her apartment safe and sound, knowing that his mother would be proud.

They shared dinner the next two evenings – at real restaurants this time – and countless more feverish kisses; and within a week Fitz realized they'd seen each other every single day since that night on the mountain. Now _she_ was even seeking _him_ out on campus, and when _she_ bought _him_ coffee the morning after their third date, he knew their relationship was forever changed.

He had reached for her hand as they walked to their cars after class and she didn't flinch, didn't shy away for fear colleagues or students might see. Instead she simply laced her fingers through his and grinned up at him so beautifully he momentarily forgot his own name.

So the next day, he grew more brazen and pulled her against him for a kiss, his heart pounding when she didn't hesitate to reciprocate, threading her fingers through the unruly hair at the nape of his neck in the way he'd already decided was the best foreplay of his life. Someone whistled appreciatively as they walked by and the two of them broke apart, only mildly embarrassed, but Liv stole another kiss as he helped her into her car and shut the door behind her. She'd quickly grown used to his chivalry and essentially expected it now.

"Have fun with your mom tonight," she said, referring to the weekly standing dinner he had at his mother's house. He and Mama Grant had a lot to discuss. While he told his mother virtually everything, he'd kept his mild obsession with the beautiful woman he'd met at the DMV to himself.

Now, after the past week he'd shared with Liv, seven dates in seven days, he knew it was time to tell his mom that her beloved baby boy had finally met his match. He'd finally met The One, the undisputed heavyweight champion love of his life. It was probably the first time he actually had _ever_ looked forward to talking to his mother about his love life.

Later that night Olivia texted him: _How was dinner? _Starting after that magical sunset date on the mountain only seven days prior, they'd begun what quickly became a ritual of texting one another before bed.

Fitz smirked. By all conventional standards, it was too soon and the two of them hadn't had "the talk" yet but: seven dates in seven days. As far as he was concerned, he and Olivia were essentially in a relationship. No other woman even existed to him romantically. So he had no qualms about the fact that he'd referred to Liv as his girlfriend at dinner with his mother tonight.

_Great. Mom wants to meet you. _He forced himself to hit SEND before he could overthink it. Even though she'd scared easily at first, by now Fitz knew this wasn't unrequited; he could feel it when he kissed her, in the way she quaked against him, in the way she was literally absolute putty in his hands, and in the way her face lit up whenever they saw each other.

His nerves dissipated when she immediately responded, _Of course she does. Moms love me!_

Fitz smiled. All that mattered was that _his_ mom adored Olivia. And he felt very strongly that she would.

So he sent the text before he thought it all the way through: _She wants you to come to Thanksgiving dinner_.

He KNEW it was too soon, and that she had family herself back in DC; even though he's gleaned that they're kind of a nightmare and the last people anyone would want to spend the holidays with. But he was incapable of bullshit, despite being a lawyer by trade (the days he wasn't teaching); it was impossible for him to be dishonest with Olivia. She deserved the absolute best, _his_ absolute best.

The clock ticked by and after ten minutes when Liv didn't respond, the worry started to gnaw at him that he'd spooked her. He cursed himself for letting his excitement and love for her overshadow the fact that she was a fragile bird who scared easily and just because she'd let her guard down with him these last seven days did not mean she was ready to ditch her family for Thanksgiving to meet his. He started to write something, anything, to let her off the hook when her response finally came through.

_Do you want me to?_

Floored, Fitz blinked at his phone. He had not been expecting this. He thought, if she said yes, he'd for sure have to convince her, promise to act as a buffer, swear up and down his mother wasn't a crazy person but really quite lovely, as long as she didn't mind hippie stoners who thought they were still living in the 1960s.

Nothing would please him more than introducing Olivia to his mother because he needed the two greatest loves of his life to meet, needed to check that box, needed to confirm that the life he was envisioning for them really was possible.

If Liv got along with his silly flowerchild of a mother, if they loved one another as much as he sensed they would, as much as he _hoped_ they would, well, he knew she was his for life.

_More than anything_, he responded honestly, maybe too honestly.

She tended to bring that out in him: All or nothing. Balls to the wall. Do or die. Go hard or go home.

Fitzgerald Grant was fearless when it came to Olivia Pope, the kind of man he always wanted to be but had been too lazy-fearful-whatever to truly embrace.

When her response came through, he laughed.

_Will there be potato salad?_

"Holy fuck, I'm in love with this woman," he said out loud to himself. Grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, he wrote back: _You know it._

_Great_, Liv typed and his heart squeezed in his chest. _It's a date._


	5. With Their First Thanksgiving

**The One with Their First Thanksgiving**

Olivia Pope had a boyfriend now.

The very last thing she'd expected upon her move to Vermont was falling in love, especially so hard and so fast. But as Indian summer faded into autumn, leaves changed colors and temperatures plummeted, Liv woke up one November morning with the realization she was in a serious relationship.

But instead of being scared, distrustful or guarded, she was rushing headlong into this romance with Fitz so effortlessly it was almost as if she were programmed for loving him. It was so easy to just _be_ with him and not overthink or overanalyze her life choices the way she'd been raised to.

Now Thanksgiving was upon them and, loath to leave their little Vermont love bubble for even one night, Liv bailed on going home to DC, much to her parents' dismay. Her mother had come right out and asked if she'd met someone but, wanting to protect herself and her relationship from the Popes' impossibly high standards, she'd lied and said she just was going to stay in town to catch up on some work and would be having dinner with friends. Friends of course being Fitz and his family, which she supposed should scare her, how fast they were moving, him taking her up to his mom's house for a holiday dinner a month after they began dating. But she wasn't scared. She was excited, so in love with spending time with him and learning everything there was to know about him that she refused to second guess her decision.

"She's going to love you," Fitz kept reassuring her that week, right up until the moment they pulled into his mother's driveway. Since his parents were divorced and, like her, Fitz was an only child, holidays were often a bifurcated affair. He talked endlessly about his mother but hardly mentioned his father beyond the fact that he was Fitz's boss at their family's law firm in downtown Burlington. She knew that getting him to open up about his father would be a tall order, and, considering her own parental situation, she completely understood. Fitz _was_ clear about being a mama's boy, however, and Liv finally understood just how much when she saw Madeline Grant in the flesh and witnessed their connection in person.

A striking woman the spitting image of her only son, Maddie (as she insisted on being called) was a tall, willowy goddess with lustrous grey hair spilling in waves down her back – it must have been the color of golden hay in her younger years, Liv decided – and Fitz's giant, soulful blue eyes. She wore a long brightly colored sweater dress; flat brown sandals even though it was 20 degrees outside and a blizzard was approaching; about a dozen multi-colored bracelets around her wrists and a half dozen pendants dangling from her neck.

"The infamous Olivia!" Maddie said warmly, immediately enveloping Liv into a hug. "It's so wonderful to meet you darling."

She smelled of lavender and jasmine and…

_Is that…?_

Fitz caught her eye over his mother's shoulder and laughed, reading her mind and nodding in confirmation.

_Yes, yes it is._

As Maddie ushered them inside the sprawling farmhouse in which Fitz had been raised, the unmistakable odor of marijuana filled Liv's nostrils and she laughed. Fitz _had_ said his mom was a hippie, and, well, pot _was_ decriminalized in Vermont.

Already Liv could tell that Maddie Grant was _definitively_ the polar opposite of Maya Pope and for that fact alone, Liv liked her immediately.

Watching Fitz interact with his mother and aunts and cousins, Liv was so grateful she had followed her instincts and agreed to come. This felt like a real family, a real Thanksgiving, a real holiday. She'd been so nervous that they'd hate her, this somewhat neurotic young black woman who clearly wasn't from their world, and she had feared being disconnected from them – and Fitz – all night.

But she couldn't have been more wrong. They were lovely and loving, welcoming her with open arms as if they'd known her their entire lives.

At one point during dinner, Olivia laughed out loud at something his Aunt Bernie said and marveled over the freedom to be so brash and uninhibited at the dinner table – something her mother in particular had always found very uncouth. Fitz's hand closed over her knee and she turned to look up at him, her stomach clenching at the naked adoration on his face. Moved, she leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, murmured, "Thank you for inviting me" as she pulled away, and placed her hand over his on her knee, lacing and squeezing their fingers together.

She had never been more thankful than she was this Thanksgiving.

His family's hopeful, carefree attitudes were infections, especially for a woman like Liv who had grown up in a household where her bed had to be made every day and she was never allowed to raise her voice, not even in joy.

A light snow began to fall as dinner ended and Maddie shooed them off to ensure they made it home before the storm began in earnest.

They walked hand-in-hand to his Range Rover, and as he pulled open the door for her, she turned in the circle of his arms to pin him with her gaze.

"I don't want to go home," she said. His eyes darkened and she felt warmth pool between her legs. He leaned in to kiss her softly, slowly nibbling on her lower lip, before he reluctantly pulled away and closed her door.

Fitz drove them back to his place, a rustic cottage just down the road from Maddie's. He built them a fire while she put away two heaping plates of leftovers and poured them each a liberal glass of her favorite red wine, now always stocked in his kitchen. They sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, drinking in silence; his arms wrapped around her from behind as she snuggled against his chest and he pressed occasional kisses along her forehead and neck.

"My mother loves you," he whispered as his fingers drew lazy circles on her stomach through her sweater. She felt slightly lightheaded from his touch but managed a smile, completely floored by how happy that news made her.

It wasn't until that moment that she realized just how much it meant to her that Maddie liked her. Fitz absolutely adored his mom and if she didn't approve, well, Liv knew that they could never have a future. And the more time she spent with Fitz, the more she wanted a future with him, whatever that meant and whatever that entailed. "I love her," she admitted softly, tilting her head up so their lips could meet.

More silence and more wine drinking as they watched the flames dance in the hearth. Leaning back against him, Liv began to feel the effects of the alcohol, closing her eyes as she let herself luxuriate in his embrace and the soothing warmth it provided. She felt so safe with Fitz's arms around her, his face nuzzled in the crook of her neck, his lips dancing along her shoulder, and then –

"I love you," he said, his voice deeper than usual, thick with emotion.

Liv froze, eyes popping open as she absorbed his words and let them wash over and overwhelm her. She tilted her head up to look into his face and saw him staring down at her, love so naked and plain in his expression her throat closed up, vision blurring with tears.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_, she thought.

"Fitz." Her voice sounded foreign, completely unlike her own.

"Since the moment I saw you, Livvie. I knew."

The effects of the wine suddenly seemed to be suffocating her and she set aside her glass – up until now cradled reverently between her palms – in a futile attempt to avoid becoming a blubbering mess.

_This man._

His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her back against him so they were facing one another, his other hand stroking her cheek.

"Fitz," she said again lamely, her voice hoarse. If she said anything else, she'd break. No man had _ever_…. And she'd had boyfriends, she'd… And her parents had a good marriage, mostly, despite how cold they were. But never… she'd never felt _this_, loved like _this_, _been_ loved like _this_, and it was exhilarating and exhausting and terrifying all at once.

"I've never felt this before," he continued, reading her mind and echoing her thoughts as he fixed his adoring gaze on her. "I've never had this with anyone."

"Me neither," she heard herself say.

"I'm so in love with you," he whispered breathlessly, fingers tracing the line of her jaw.

And then she did cry.

"Fitz." There it was again. The only word she seemed capable of speaking.

"You don't have to say it back." His thumb brushed a tear from her cheek. "I know it might seem too soon, but-"

She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "No," she said. She reached for him, sliding into his lap and cupping his face so she could press her mouth to his, suckling his lower lip between her teeth to kiss him long and slow and deep. His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against him as he kissed her back.

"Fitz," she loved his name, loved the way it sounded to her ears, and murmured it again as she pulled away, licking the tears that fell around her mouth.

Her hands went to the hem of her sweater, whipping it over her head in one quick motion. His eyes darkened as they fell on the bright red lace bra barely covering her breasts. His hands were on her, pulling a cup aside just enough to latch his mouth to her nipple as she clutched his head to her chest and rained kisses along his forehead.

"I love you," she whispered, finally finding the words, and when he brought his head up to look into her eyes his were filled with unshed tears. "I need you." _Desperately_. "I want you." _Painfully_. She grinded down on his cock to emphasize her point and watched his eyes flicker opaque with desire. Tonight was the night. Despite their obvious attraction and magnetic chemistry, they had waited, biding their time, choosing not to consummate their relationship.

Until now.

Liv lay back in front of the roaring flames, pulling Fitz by his collar down with her. Slowly undressing her, he blazed a warm, wet trail from her bee-stung lips down her body, attentively laving each breast with his tongue, nuzzling his nose into the giving softness of her flat belly, spreading her legs wide to press kisses on the inside of each thigh before he put his mouth on her and brought her to a quick, sensational orgasm with an expert combination of teeth, lips, fingers and tongue. She whimpered his name, writhing on the carpet beneath him and helping shed his clothes as he nestled himself between her thighs. When he rubbed his tip along her slick folds, she gasped at the feel of him, so big, so hard, so heavy and ready for her. He held her gaze as he sank into her, slowly stretching her slick walls until he was fully seated inside. She whined, so full of him, throbbing, pulsing; and he closed his eyes as she involuntarily fluttered and flexed around his length.

"Livvie," he gasped her name, and she wrapped her legs about his waist, arms around his back, pulling his body flush to hers so their lips could meet. "Oh God," he moaned long and low as they began to move together, perfectly choreographed as if they had always been like this, always been lovers.

His dick was big, long and powerful. _Perfect_. And he knew exactly how to use it, within seconds claiming the title as the best lover she'd ever had.

They worked together, hips thrusting and rolling and grinding; and Liv watched the ecstasy dance across his features, watched him straining to hold back, to wait until she came first; and if it were possible that made her love him even more.

His hand slid between their writhing, sweat-slicked bodies to the bud at the center of her wet folds, rolling her clit in time with his thrusts. Liv came instantly, violently, arching up off the floor as she convulsed with spasms, crying out his name until she was hoarse, raking her nails down his back with the force of her orgasm and, somewhere in the back of her mind she was sure, drawing blood.

He was right behind her, moaning uncontrollably as he twitched and spilled himself into her, crying her name "Livvieeeeee" like it was a prayer; collapsing atop her and pinning her into the softness of the rug. She wrapped her arms around him, sighing long and low with contentment as she carded her fingers through his damp curls and pressed kiss after kiss into his shoulder.

_Best. Sex. Ever_, she thought blissfully, her body boneless with exhaustion.

_This_ was why she'd moved to Vermont. _He_ was why. Why she'd turned down a prestigious job at a powerful DC firm for an uncertain future in this quaint little New England city. Because her very first week, before she'd even settled in, there Fitz came barreling into her life, changing it forever.

Never one for religion, Olivia Pope said a silent prayer of thanks to God anyway.

"Wow," he murmured, breaking her reverie as his lips pressed kisses against her neck, tongue drawing circles along the column of her throat.

"I love you so much," she whispered, echoing his words from earlier. They flowed easier now, so natural, so free, and she reveled in them. "Thank you. Thank you."

He lifted his head and smirked at her, clearly loving how well and thoroughly fucked she looked, and that he looked the same. "What are you thanking me for?"

She shrugged one shoulder, drawing his lips to her collarbone. "For being persistent. For wearing me down." _And wearing me _out, she thought smugly. "For being the best man I've literally ever known in my entire life." _That much was true_, she realized now, as his hand slid down her body to trace the curve of her hip and her skin tingled beneath his touch.

"You're not just saying that because of how phenomenal the sex just was, right?"

She laughed, noticing through the window that the snow was intensifying, and snuggled deeper into the shag carpet, gripping Fitz's hair in her hands to pull his body flush against hers. She never wanted to leave this room; this house; this moment; the way he was looking down at her like she hung the moon; the way her heart pounded in her chest like a snare drum; the way she felt dizzy with love for him.

So they stayed there all night, at the foot of the hearth, making love until the wee hours as the storm escalated into a full-blown blizzard, snow blowing and wind howling like a freight train.

Olivia awoke sometime around 8am flush against Fitz's chest with his arms locked tight around her; the fire a low ember now, the storm at full speed outside. He'd pulled a blanket off the sofa to wrap around them and she turned in the circle of his arms beneath it, grateful when he didn't stir, flushing with pride over how thoroughly she'd worn him out. Even in his sleep his arm tightened reflexively around her and Liv couldn't resist nuzzling him and inhaling his scent, awstruck over how wonderful and sexy and gorgeous he was.

_Mine_, she thought possessively as she gazed down at his sleeping form. _All mine._

She was indescribably sore; her body aching in places she didn't even know it had. But her soul was fulfilled, her heart filled to bursting with joy and love and happiness because of this beautiful creature who loved and had loved her so thoroughly just hours before. She felt empowered, invigorated and completely, inextricably, renewed.

_This is what love does to a person_, Liv realized as she lightly stroked Fitz's hair and he murmured in his sleep in response. The thought terrified her, how deeply she now knew she loved him, how much that meant he could absolutely destroy her.

Weakness wasn't ever tolerated in the Pope household.

Slanting her eyes down at his body, she felt hers flush with heat.

_Fuck the fear_, she decided, turning over so she could snuggle back into him and pull his arms back around her.

Loving Fitz didn't make her weak. No one that felt this good and made her this happy was a weakness.

No. Loving Fitz and choosing to give him her heart was the epitome of strength.

And as she quickly fell back to sleep, snuggled within the circle of her man's arms, Liv knew she'd never felt stronger in her entire life.


	6. The Morning After

**The One the Morning After **

At some point mid-morning, Fitz and Olivia relocated to his huge California king-sized bed where they promptly made love once more before passing out and curling up together boneless with exhaustion.

Fitz awoke around noon with her sweet smelling long limbs wrapped around him like a vine; petite curves sprawled across his torso. As he slanted his sleepy eyes down at the crown of her head, his chest ached with the frantic beating of his heart. He imagined a lifetime of moments just like this, waking up naked in one another's arms after a night of feverish lovemaking; preparing to greet the world together.

A quick glance out the window revealed a storm that had barely let up and a cursory peek at the flashing digital clock on his nightstand declared the resulting power outage. Grateful he'd invested in a generator after a particularly bad blizzard a couple winters before; Fitz reflexively tightened his arms around Liv, tracing her curves with his palm as images of last night flashed through his mind.

Watching her interact with his family had literally been a dream come true. She'd fit in so seamlessly with his mother and aunts and cousins it was as if she'd always known them. At one point he'd looked around the dinner table at all of the women in his life whom he loved and was overwhelmed with pride that he finally had someone like Olivia by his side to share them with. No one he'd ever dated had been worth bringing home for the holidays, not even his most serious ex-girlfriend Mellie, whom his mother had despised.

He hadn't intended to tell Liv that he loved her so soon. But after such a great dinner, with her nestled in his arms during yet another Vermont snowstorm, he'd felt more complete than he'd ever felt before. She fit into his life and into his world so seamlessly the words fell out before he could stop or edit them.

Fitz had been certain that she loved him back though. He saw it every time she looked at him and he felt it every time they touched or kissed. She gave herself away with every shiver in his embrace and each catch in her breath right before their lips met. But hearing her actually _say_ the words … the feeling was indescribable. Goosebumps blanketed his flesh as he recalled how awestruck she looked when the phrase left her lips.

By the end of the night and her tenth or eleventh orgasm, the words flowed much more freely, wrapped within a litany of curses and prayers to the heavens as he wrecked her over and over again until she collapsed pliant and breathless against him. He ran his hands down her thigh at the memory, delighting over her soft, smooth skin, pressing a kiss to the top of her head tucked neatly under his chin.

Their bodies were the perfect fit. It was as if the universe had created them specifically for one another.

Olivia stirred, stretching her long smooth legs down his hairy ones as she arched her body against him and yawned, sleepily peeking one eye open at a time. When she tilted her head up to meet his gaze, she looked so sublimely beautiful his stomach clenched, cock hardening instantly.

He'd missed her, Fitz realized as they smiled at one another. While she'd been asleep, he had actually _missed_ her.

_You've got it _bad_, Grant,_ he mused to himself.

It was amazing how far they'd come since she tried to blow him off at the DMV in August.

"Hi," he said, shocked by the gruffness in his voice.

Her grin was so wide and beautiful it took his breath away. "Hi," she whispered, stretching up to press a kiss to his lips and the lush curves of her breasts against his chest. His hands cupped her ass to pull her more solidly into him, rolling his hips so she could feel how excited he was that she was finally awake.

"Down boy," she giggled even as her hand slid between their bodies to close around him. He sucked in a sharp breath as she quickly found a rhythm, trailing kisses along his throat and chin until she reached his lips. He tilted his head to give her greater access, eagerly slurping her tongue into his mouth, moaning as her hand fisted his length from base to tip, rolling the head in the nook between her thumb and index finger. He kissed her sloppily as he thrust his hips into her palm and sought out her breast with one hand while cupping her ass with the other.

"Livvie," he gasped, twirling her nipple between his fingers. She moaned deep in her throat in response, nibbling on his lower lip and flicking her wrist until he was writhing beneath her. She rolled his balls in her palm, squeezing her fist up and down his length as his core coiled; his body jerking, flailing as he came all over her hand, gasping and panting and whining her name while she continued to pepper kisses along his lips and jaw line. Breathlessly fuckstruck, Fitz lay absolutely wrecked beneath her, staring through heavy-lidded eyes as she licked and swallowed every drop of his cum from her fingers. And somehow, despite the mind-blowing orgasm he'd just had, his cock immediately stiffened again anyway.

She was delicious and his appetite for her was insatiable.

He literally wanted to spend the rest of his life in this bed making love to her and committing every millimeter of her body to his memory.

"I could get used to waking up with you," he sighed and she laughed that loud, boisterous cackle that he loved so much.

"I won't guarantee a hand job every morning but today I was feeling generous," she joked, gasping when his hand slid down her body and found her soaking wet, three fingers easily sinking in past both knuckles. He gazed up at her, watching the ecstasy light up her face, absolutely fascinated by the way she pulled that plump lower lip between her perfect white teeth and mouthed the word "_fuck_" so harshly his cock throbbed against his belly. She was an undeniably breathtaking vision, arching above him and cupping her perfect tits in her hands to tweak her nipples as she fucked herself on his fingers.

Curly hair wild about her face, brown eyes equally wild with passion, she held his gaze as she came around his thrusting digits, whining his name "Fiiiiiiiiiitzzzzzzzz" so long and low he thought he might come again too. He didn't give her time to luxuriate in her orgasm, flipping her onto her back to kiss her thoroughly, molding her breasts into his palms as they took turns teasing one another with their tongues.

She spread her legs for him and sinking into her wet heat felt like coming home, warmth and softness surrounding him as her slick walls tightened with each languid thrust.

Snowy early afternoon shadows filtered in through the bedroom window as they moved together, taking their time to learn one another's bodies in the daylight now, kissing and caressing, cataloging every freckle, dimple, and scar

Fitz had never made love before; never been buried so deeply inside of a woman whom he actually adored so endlessly and completely. He stared down at Olivia in awe, memorizing every expression, every flicker of ecstasy across her face, every moan, and every whimper; trying to savor the feeling of being so wholly connected to another person, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually as well.

Already familiar with what she needed, what she loved, Fitz stroked her little bundle of nerves and watched her shatter beneath him; the force of her orgasm so strong her slick walls convulsed and fluttered erratically around his aching heat, constricting like a warm wet glove. He blacked out as he came, collapsing atop her in a twitching, jerking mess, only mildly aware of her sighing his name and pressing kisses against his neck and shoulder as her inner spasms wrung him dry.

He lost track of time and space, staring unseeingly at a spot on the sheets beneath Liv's head for hours, maybe minutes, possibly seconds. When he could finally think coherently again, he rolled off of her with reluctance, immediately pulling her with him so she was sprawled across his chest.

"Tell me a secret," she said as she laid her head on her hands on top of his breastbone and stared out at the snowfall.

Fitz smiled.

Pillow talk.

"What kind of secret?"

Liv snorted and he was certain he'd never heard a sexier sound in his life. "Something you've never told anyone else, silly."

The words were immediately on his tongue, and he just as immediately bit them back. This was his secret. Something he'd been holding on to for a while now, that he'd told no one, not even his mother. As much as he loved Olivia and knew that she loved him in return, as amazing as the night they'd shared had been… he was unsure about revealing that part of himself just yet.

But then an image of her laughing at his Aunt Bernie's crude jokes the night before flashed through his mind and the words left his mouth before he could stop them.

"I want to run for mayor."

He felt unease as the sentence hung in the air for a few short seconds before Liv sat up to stare into his eyes. The expression on her face floored him. She looked fascinated.

"Really?" she said as if him running for mayor of Burlington was the most interesting thing in the world. "I had no clue you had political aspirations. Why public office?" Fitz knows that he's not the obvious politician type, and that was a huge reason why it appealed to him so much.

He shrugged, stroking a hand down her bare arm, ignoring the way his stomach flipped at her nonchalance. He didn't know why he'd expected her to judge him. Of course she wouldn't. He knew better. Not everyone was his father. "I love Burlington. Born and raised here. It's a great city. Maybe it's the stereotypical only-child-hubris instilled in me by my parents, and I know it sounds cliché, but I think I could make a difference. I _want_ to make a difference."

She was grinning at him and he felt so incredibly shy he was tempted to hide his face in his pillow like a bashful child. "I love that," she said with so much sincerity he gawked at her. "Why would you keep that a secret?"

He was speechless, only managing to shrug again, and couldn't resist the urge to lean in and kiss her, pulling that plump lower lip between his teeth as he drew away.

"My father."

"You don't talk about him much," Liv observed carefully. God he loved her. Already she could read him like a book.

"We don't have the closest relationship," Fitz said just as carefully.

He didn't like talking about his father. It was bad enough working for him, but he sucked it up because he was just putting in (and biding) his time like he promised. His family's law firm was one of the oldest and most respected full-service firms in Vermont, with several smaller offices throughout the state and its main headquarters in downtown Burlington. He mostly worked in environmental law and litigation, with just a few clients on retainer who he was truly passionate about.

But Fitz felt the most fulfilled discussing and teaching political science to his students. It was through that current endeavor he'd realized that it wasn't enough for him to just _teach_ politics – he wanted to _live_ them. He wanted to run for office – _local_ office. He had no greater aspirations to run for the governorship, or for the Senate, or even for the Presidency. No aspirations for that at all. He was a local Vermont boy who wanted to stay local and help make the hometown he loved the best city it could possibly be.

"Why not?" Liv asked.

"He wishes I was more like him," Fitz said simply. It was of course more complicated than that. If he ran for office, his father would be _thrilled_. He'd of course support his son whole-heartedly, throwing the full weight and power of his influence behind the campaign, and what's exactly what Fitz _didn't_ want. Jerry Grant was a control freak and his son was a free bird who wanted to pave his own way and that's exactly why they'd always, _always_ clashed. Despite his Ivy League education and license to practice law, Fitz was his mother's son through and through, not his father's – and Jerry hated that.

Liv snorted again and he kissed her because he had to. "I know what that's like," she said wryly, licking her lips in the wake of his kiss. And he knew that she did, knew from the little she'd told him about her parents that they too had unfairly high expectations for their only daughter. It would seem that perhaps they were kindred spirits in that way.

"And I know that I couldn't just run for mayor. I'd have to start small, work my way up. I'd really need to get my feet wet by, you know, landing a city-council position first." This was already more than he'd voiced to himself, and as the words came out of his mouth, he felt even more motivated to make this dream a reality.

"Right," Liv was nodding her head rapidly, and Fitz couldn't help but smile as he saw the wheels working in her brain. This is what she did. Well, what she _wanted_ to do – public relations, crisis management and image consulting. It's why she'd come to UVM and their highly personalized MBA program – to hone her craft. "That's the smart thing to do. Even in a small city in Vermont, people appreciate politicians who have paid their dues."

"If I did it any other way, they'd just say 'Oh, there's Jerry Grant's kid getting his daddy to buy the election for him.' Although I know that some people will think that way no matter what." Fitz knew that he sounded bitter, because that's how his father always made him feel. "Dad probably could. And probably would, too, to be honest. He knows everyone."

Fitzgerald Thomas Grant II didn't come to be arguably the most feared litigator in the state of Vermont without making powerful friends. Half of the city council members or their businesses currently were or had been on retainer at Grant, Glavin & Spencer at some point; same with the city's unions and schools. Hell, the university itself was a client, although Fitz told himself he had gotten that job on his own merits – he was Harvard educated after all (although, yes, he was a legacy, as both his father and grandfather before him had also attended the Cambridge institution for undergrad and law school).

"So you want to be mayor of Burlington someday," Liv recapped matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I do."

She kissed him. "I know I'm biased because I love you but I think you'd do an amazing job. And if you need a campaign manager, you know who to call." He was so touched he kissed her back until they were breathless, pulling away to rain kisses along her jaw and chin and down her throat, so happy in this little cocoon of theirs he never wanted to leave.

"Your turn."

Unlike him, she did not hesitate. "I like to make jam."

Fitz had to bite back a laugh. "What? That's a secret?"

"Don't laugh!" She swatted him playfully. "My Nana always used to make the _best_ homemade jams that she'd serve with these equally amazing buttermilk biscuits. I went to her house every day after school until my mom was done at work and it seemed like every week Nana had a different jam. Strawberry, raspberry or blueberry jams of course, but also whatever fruits were seasonal at the market – mango, apricot, cherry. My favorite was this ginger rhubarb she used to make. I loved that combination together. I always begged her to show me how she did it but she never got around to it before she passed."

Her tone lowered, ripe with sadness. "I didn't know until after she died, but she wrote down every recipe she ever made in this little notebook that my mom gave me after her funeral. Whenever I have the time, I'm in the kitchen trying to make her jams. 'Try' being the optimal word. I've been _trying_ to replicate those jams for years and I haven't come close. I follow the recipes word for word but it's literally like she had this magic touch, or maybe a secret ingredient she didn't document, because they've _never_ tasted the way I remember hers tasting. I've made each recipe countless times – there's fifteen – and _none_ of them taste like I remember."

"Wow." Fitz said. "That's a lot of jam."

Liv smiled. "I got her biscuits right on the first try, though," she said, pride tinging her voice. "The first try! But the jam – like I said, she had a magical touch. Impossible to recreate."

"I'm sure she loves that you even try, though."

"I'm not giving up. I'm going to keep at it. And once I finally feel like I have even one of the recipes right…" Her voice trailed off.

After several long moments of silence, Fitz tilted his head so he could see her face. "What?"

Liv shrugged, a small smile dancing along her lips. "I just always imagined once I finally got one of the recipes right, I'd start selling it. 'Nana Pope's Homemade Jam' or something like that. I don't want to make a career of it or anything… more of a hobby." She sighed. "I have this vision of teaching my kids how to make my Nana's jam and they bring jars to school to sell to their friends and teachers and…" Her voice trailed off again and she sighed. "Someday."

Fitz had that vision now too, little kids with his unruly blonde curls and Liv's big brown eyes handing out tiny jars of homemade jam to their teachers and classmates. The image was so vivid he literally could see their children's faces and had to blink the mirage away. Now was not the time to be naming kids they didn't even have.

_Yet_, Fitz thought.

_We don't have those kids yet. _

_We will though_.

He was certain.

They spent another hour or so talking about this or that before Fitz's stomach growled so loudly Liv felt the vibration against her torso and burst out laughing. Reluctantly dragging themselves from the bed, they padded barefoot and half-dressed into a kitchen lit in hues of slate grey and white from a skylight covered in snow and raided the fridge for Thanksgiving leftovers.

As Liv prepared their plates for the microwave, Fitz pulled a bottle of Champagne from his wine fridge and poured two generous flutes full of bubbly, topping them off with a splash of orange juice. He turned to face Liv and stopped dead in his tracks as he watched her move around his kitchen (wearing nothing but a t-shirt he'd tossed her on their way out of his room) as if she owned the place, as if she belonged there, which he felt more and more certain with each passing second that she did. Her hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun and those long sculpted legs he adored were bare beneath the hem of his shirt, her pert nipples poking little dents in the fabric. He already knew those curves intimately and his mouth watered as he regarded her; how she plopped several thick slices of turkey onto a plate; the way she licked the sweet juice from his Aunt Bernie's legendary yams off of her finger; the expertise with which she organized everything so neatly on each plate. She must have caught him staring out of the corner of her eye because she raised a brow and smirked, asking him without looking up, "See something you like?"

It was his time to snort. More than like.

Love.

Adore.

Worship.

Revere.

He was across the small kitchen in half a stride, wrapping an arm around her waist, and when she tilted her head up, their lips met in a soft, chaste kiss. She popped both plates into his microwave and whirled back into the circle of his arms to twine hers around his neck and yank his mouth down to hers.

"I'm hungry," she murmured as they pulled away, and he handed her a mimosa in response. She grinned, holding up her glass in the gesture of a toast, and they clinked theirs together.

"To us," Fitz said, never taking his eyes off of hers as he raised his glass to his lips.

"To us," she echoed, and as she swallowed and set her glass aside, Fitz leaned down to slurp a drop of orange juice from the corner of her mouth.

"I can't believe it's still snowing," she marveled as they sipped in silence and watched the snowfall outside. If the amount of powder pressed against the sliding glass door was any indication, already over a foot had accumulated and the precipitation showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

Fitz shrugged. "You've never experienced winter in Vermont, huh?"

The smile that lit her face was so beautiful he momentarily forgot his own name. "No." As the microwave chimed, she gasped in realization, "And the power didn't even go out! All that snow and if we were in D.C., we'd be eating cold leftovers by candlelight."

"I have a generator," Fitz told her as she removed their plates from the microwave. He took one from her and gestured to his little breakfast nook by the sliding door. "I refilled it earlier this week when the blizzard was first forecast. It might be a day or two before they get the power back up otherwise." Sometimes longer.

Liv pouted. "My apartment definitely does NOT have a generator. Which means it doesn't have heat right now either."

"So you're probably going have to stay with me this weekend, huh?" He wanted her to stay with him forever. His little house had so much life when she was in it.

She grinned, so breathtakingly beautiful he leaned across the table to kiss her just because he could. "Yeah, I think so."

After eating, they promptly went back to Fitz's room, bringing the bottle of Champagne with them and climbing back into bed.

They didn't get any sleep.


	7. With Their First Fight

Olivia's first Vermont winter flew by in a blur.

She spent virtually every waking moment with Fitz and the two of them fell rather easily into a serious relationship.

She loved the woman that she was when she was with him. She didn't overanalyze or overthink every decision. She was content to sit back and let things happen – _finally_.

But best of all, she was _happy_.

She floated through the day as if on a cloud, blissfully lighthearted, awed by how easy it was to go with the flow and not obsess over everything in her life. She was _fun_, because _he_ was fun, and he made her realize how much more enjoyable life was to live if she just let loose a little bit and relinquished her obsessive need for control.

Olivia reluctantly traveled to DC for Christmas, deftly avoiding any mention of the new boyfriend she was madly in love with, and went back in Burlington the morning of the 27th, both because she desperately missed Fitz and because she loathed to spend one more minute with her parents. He picked her up from the Vermonter and kissed her hungrily for about five minutes right there in the middle of the terminal like they were a couple of teenagers. They walked hand-in-hand to his car, stealing kisses along the way, and he whisked her off to his place where they enjoyed the next week nesting and lovemaking.

Both New Year's Eve and New Year's Day were spent in bed. Naked and drunk on expensive Champagne, they raided Fitz's Netflix queue – "Breaking Bad" and "House of Cards" were two favorites – and were in the throes of making love when the clock struck midnight, TV on low in the background, the symphony of their rapture a surprisingly harmonious companion to "Auld Lang Syne." She clung to him bonelessly in the aftermath, intoxicated on a mixture of Fitz and fine French bubbly, luxuriating in the feel of his strong arms tightened around her.

They passed the time playing a plethora of silly games, from "Truth or Dare" to strip poker to Monopoly; Fitz breaking out the latter from the back of his bedroom closet where it had been collecting dust for God knows how long.

They'd even enjoyed a particularly snowy afternoon making one of her Nana's jams; still not successful, but they had so much fun trying – and having sex right on the kitchen table – Liv didn't even care. They took turns fixing one another dinner, because she actually was a pretty decent cook, although she thought that Fitz was better, just something else he'd learned from his mom.

And now Liv joined mother and son for their weekly meals; as Maddie Grant quickly climbed her list of the most fascinating people on the planet, and she was humbled and floored by just how much Fitz loved their connection.

Maddie had even convinced Liv to smoke a joint with her one night following a particular loud and silly dinner, although she had only taken two hits before coughing like an amateur and remembering why she'd never cared much for that particular brand of herbal refreshment in the first place. While she'd certainly _never_ be the kind of stoner free spirit Maddie was, Liv was proud of herself for even trying because the kind of woman she had been in D.C. was the kind of woman who would have judged Maddie Grant – and her son – for such extracurricular proclivities.

Now she was joining in, because she found them amusing and endearing and fun.

And what the hell? Life was short.

Fitz surprised her on Valentine's Day by flooding her office on campus with dozens of bouquets of red roses and white hydrangeas – her favorite flower; while she'd spent hundreds of dollars on fancy red lingerie that he had received a lot of joy in taking off. It had been the first time in her entire life that Olivia saw the point in such a completely manufactured commercial holiday. In fact, when she awoke nude and spooned in Fitz's arms the morning of February 15th, epically sated and sore, red lingerie torn to shreds on the floor beside the bed, she decided that Valentine's Day was now her most beloved holiday _ever_.

Spring break rolled around in early March and Fitz easily convinced her to spend the week in nearby Stowe for their very first vacation together. He rented a cozy villa at the famous Trapp Family Lodge and she begrudgingly agreed to let him teach her how to snowboard even though she'd much rather stick to skiing (because the Popes had been frequenting the snowy resorts of Whistler, Aspen and Sun Valley for years but were considerably too classy to snowboard). In the end, they only spent two days on the slopes, the rest of the week holed up in their villa taking full advantage of the fireplace and whirlpool bath. Liv's body was blissfully achy and sore by the time they drove home to Burlington and she relished the pain like old battle wounds.

Back at school that first day after returning from Stowe, Liv promised a late week happy hour to her colleagues Abby and Quinn, two women she'd grown relatively close to but rarely saw off campus because she was completely wrapped up in Fitz. They teased her about her instantly serious relationship with the tall, dreamy poli sci professor and she always blushed while feeling secretly smug that of all the women on campus, that tall dreamy poli sci professor had chosen _her_. From the moment that they had met, he'd essentially chased her and worn her down until she had fallen hopelessly, desperately in love with him.

So she practically skipped to the parking lot where she knew he was waiting and almost tripped over her own feet when she saw him, all 6'2, broad shoulders and curly hair, leaning up against his Range Rover like he didn't have a care in the world. Her stomach flipped, heart clenching tight in her chest when he grinned at her, scruff speckling his chiseled jawline, and her mouth literally watered as she approached him.

_He really should never shave again_, Liv decided. He knew that she loved him scruffy, because he looked so masculine and virile and straight out of one of the Harlequin romance novels she was ashamed to admit she loved so much. _He's so hot; I can't believe he's mine_, she thought as she finally reached him and his arms slid easily, possessively, around her waist.

She barely got the word "Hi" out of her mouth before he covered it with his own; pulling her under with a long sweet kiss that had her clinging to him, her toes curling in her boots as his tongue danced along her lower lip. His hand closed over her ass and she giggled against his mouth, pulling back reluctantly to gaze up into blue eyes that stared at her like she hung the moon.

"Hi," he grinned and she couldn't resist kissing him again, sliding her hand up into his hair to thread her fingers through his silky curls. _I love you_, she thought (like she always did) as she stared into his face, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Then he was taking her hand and helping her into his Range Rover, ever the gentleman, and she turned and watched him walk around to the driver's side, unable to take her eyes off of him for even a second.

"So I know you said you wanted to go out tonight," Fitz began as he drove them off campus. She was barely listening, just staring at his profile and marveling over how perfect and handsome and wonderful he was.

_My gorgeous sexy amazing flawless boyfriend_, she thought to herself smugly, the pull to him magnetic, and she slid over in the bench seat to run her fingers through his hair. His arm went around her without hesitation and, without taking his eyes off the road, he pressed a kiss to her forehead that had her skin tingling at the point of contact.

"Did you have something else in mind?" Liv asked as she nuzzled her face into his neck, rubbing her nose along his scruffy throat, loving the friction of his whiskers lightly scratching her delicate skin.

"Yeah," was all he said, his voice hitching and she giggled over the effect she had on him, dancing her fingers along his inner thigh toward his groin.

"Livvie," he hissed out a warning and her hand retreated, fingers lacing through his over the gearshift instead.

"Wherever you want to go is okay with me," she sighed in contentment, closing her eyes as she burrowed her nose in his neck again and breathed him in; his uniquely masculine scent never failing to make her toes curl. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she lightly dozed off as they drove, letting the small circles he was drawing on her stomach lull her into a light, dreamless sleep. She wasn't sure how much time passed but as the car slowed, Liv stirred; Fitz's lips pressing kisses into her forehead as he shifted the Range into park. She opened her eyes and sat up, gasping when she looked around and realized where they were.

Their clearing; with Burlington, Lake Champlain and the Green Mountains sprawled out as far as the eye could see. Flashbacks of their epic first date in this very spot flooded her mind.

"Fitz!"

He turned his body slightly in his seat to face her. "We haven't been back since and I've been meaning to… This is where it all began for us."

Liv's chest ached. Her heart. Her _heart_. Was it possible for it to explode from joy? This man was too perfect for words. She reached for him, cupping his face in her hands and pressing a loud, smacking kiss against his lips.

They got out of the car and walked hand-in-hand over to the very same boulder where he'd first kissed her and the memories played in her mind like a movie. Until Fitz, she had been certain men like him only _existed_ in movies and she'd never find someone to love so endlessly and completely who could love _her_ just the same.

She'd been so wrong.

How many people were lucky enough to find their soulmate the way she had – and when they hadn't even been looking?

_God bless the DMV_, she thought vaguely as they stared at one another.

"Have I told you today that I love you?"

Liv grinned, awestruck as always by the unyielding adoration in his eyes. He tells her all the time and it never fails to move her, the reverence that's always in his gaze when he looks at her. "This morning, I think. In the shower." When she'd surprised him by getting on her knees beneath the spray and taking him into her mouth. His eyes darkened at the memory and he leaned down to kiss her, pulling her plump lower lip through his teeth.

"You're so beautiful." Something else he told her all the time that never failed to make her swoon. She had never felt more beautiful in her entire life than she did in this relationship with Fitz.

"So are you," she caressed his cheek, scratching the scruff along his jaw. They stared at one another in silence, enjoying the sounds of nature all around them – leaves rustling in the breeze, crickets chirping in the grass, birds singing somewhere off in the distance.

And then Liv saw the conflicted look cross his face and watched with foreboding as he mulled something over in his mind.

She didn't know how long it had been before he finally said, "I know we haven't talked, Liv…"

She raised a brow at his choice of words. "We talk all the time." Stalling. She knew that's not what he meant.

"Not about… what you're going to do."

She frowned, discomfort settling in the pit of her stomach as realization washed over her. She knew exactly what he was talking about, and being her parents' daughter through and through, she wanted to avoid unpleasant conversation at all costs. Because the truth was that she would be graduating soon and she had told her parents she was only going to be in Vermont for one year, just to get her Master's degree, and then she'd be moving right back to D.C.

That was before she'd met the love of her life.

Fitz had changed everything.

Her parents just didn't know that yet.

Because she was scared to tell them.

But Fitz was right. They had never talked about what she was going to do. They'd been too busy falling in love and being in love and staying in that happy-go-lucky honeymoon place where everything was bright and shiny and new.

The fact of the matter was – Liv hadn't really even _thought_ about what she was going to do, although she admitted to herself she was carrying on as if she was staying. She'd just been living in the moment, skating by on Fitz's kisses and his lovemaking and his all-encompassing devotion to her.

She couldn't do that forever. From the look on his face, she couldn't even do that for another _minute_. He wanted to address this issue _now_. Suddenly Liv had the feeling that he hadn't brought them up here to their clearing just to reminisce about their legendary first date.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she said honestly, immediately regretting the frankness of her words and hating the way his body stiffened in her arms, so rigid and hard she panicked and rushed on, pulling back so they were looking at one another head on. "I love you."

"I know." His expression was pained.

"I told my parents I would move right back to D.C." And she had no idea how she was going to broach this subject with them when she'd already been too scared to tell them she even _had_ a boyfriend. It was too easy for her to avoid them when they lived in another state.

"I know." They'd had this discussion months ago, well before that first date, during a conversation when Fitz had brought her coffee. It never came up after they got together.

"That was before I even met you. Before-" _Before I fell in love with you. Before I realized I'd rather die than even _imagine_ a future without you._

The truth was she couldn't picture a life in D.C. now. She couldn't fathom going back to her old world there after what she'd found with Fitz. She had no Earthly idea how she was going to break this news to her parents and she didn't want to dwell on it, not now, not when the only thing that she cared about was relieving the agony she saw in Fitz's eyes. Leaning up on her toes, she drew his lips into a kiss, bringing his hand to her breast and moaning into his mouth as he fondled the plump flesh in his palm.

They kissed hungrily, bodies grinding together as they blindly undressed, zippers unzipping, buttons unbuttoning before he mated their bodies – right there against the boulder where they'd kissed for the first time, her legs wrapped high around his waist. They made slow, sweet, tender love; mouths fused in hungry desperate kisses that drowned out their whimpers as they clung to one another and writhed together in release.

"Don't leave me, Livvie," he pleaded breathlessly as he pressed kisses to her throat, whiskers scratching her skin. Struck mute from her mind-blowing orgasm, unable to even form words, tears stung the back of Olivia's eyes as she clutched his head to her and rained kisses along his forehead, never wanting to let him go, never wanting to leave this precious moment between them.

Then it was weird and awkward on the car ride home and Liv wasn't sure why, except that he drove her to her place instead of back to his, and he didn't touch her when he walked her to her door and when she said "I love you" he didn't say it back – and he always, _always_ said it back. He kissed her on the lips chastely and when she asked him to stay, he made a lame excuse about having to prepare for court in the morning and left.

She'd barely shut her door behind her before the sobs came and she had no idea why, unable to stop or control them as they overtook her and wracked her body. Agony and anxiety, that's all she felt, and she hadn't peeled the layers away yet to ascertain the reasons. She dragged herself to the shower and washed up, her inner thighs tender to the touch from their desperate lovemaking, and as she stood under the spray and replayed the evening's events in her mind, she felt her sadness fading into anger; irrational, unreasonable anger, and before she could stop herself she was alighting out of the shower to grab her phone from the counter and dial his number.

"Hey-" he'd barely gotten the word out before she attacked.

"What's wrong with you?"

"What?" He made a noise in his throat that sounded like confusion mixed with indignation and Olivia literally saw red.

"Why did you get all weird tonight? You barely looked at me after… And you brought me home when I always stay at your place. What's wrong with you?" She was rambling, spewing whatever thoughts came to mind, however inarticulate, and she knew that she sounded like a petulant child – or, more precisely, a spoiled fucking brat. But at the moment, she didn't even care. She was a Pope, her defense mechanism was to get mad and turn it around on the other person. She refused think of any of the ways this could be her fault.

"What's _wrong_ with _me_?"

There was an edge to his voice that had alarm bells going off in her head but Liv ignored them and powered on. "Yes – _you_! You used that bullshit excuse about having court in the morning-"

"I _do_ have court in the morning!"

"I know that!" she snapped. And she did, she knew that. But that never stopped him from wanting them to share a bed together before. What changed? They both knew that they slept better _together_!

"Then what's the problem!? Why are you giving me such a hard time right now?"

"The problem is that you copped an attitude with me tonight after we made love and I want to know why!"

"You _know_ why!" he shouted and she held the phone away from her ear in shock at the volume of his voice. Clearly, he was furious and if she yelled, he had the right to yell back, but there was an underlying quiver in his tone that squeezed at her heart.

"Because I told my parents I was going to go back to D.C. after I graduated?!" _He couldn't possibly be serious,_ she thought. "Fitz, I told them that before I even _met_ you!"

"Right!" he snapped. "But you _have_ met me, _now_. And after everything, and with what we have between us – you're actually still considering it! And instead of _talking_ to me honestly about it tonight, you seduced me. And then you called to scream at me for being human and getting mad that you used sex to distract me from the fact that you still haven't told your parents about me or our relationship." Something about his tone, combined with the brutal truth of his words, completely broke her – her legs collapsed from beneath her and she slid to the floor, choking back a sob.

"Fitz-"

"Look, I really do have court tomorrow and I have a lot of paperwork to read through tonight to prepare. I have to go."

She felt paralyzed with fear and paranoia at the detached tone of his voice, cursing herself for calling him so angrily, terrified she'd pushed him away. Struck completely dumb, speechless and unsure of what to say next, she could only manage another strangled "Fitz-" before the dial tone was sounding in her ear.

She stared at her phone in disbelief, immediately going to dial him again before the voice in her head shouted not to. The cold disconnection in his tone unsettled her and honestly shook her to her very core. She'd only ever heard him use that tone on the phone with his father, which underscored the uneasy relationship the two of them had, but he'd always spoken to _her_ with warmth, love, respect; with tenderness and kindness – _never_ with impatience, anger, or indifference.

She shuddered at the thought and again used her anger to outweigh her fear.

He was being a fucking child.

She had a right to be unsure about how to break the news of her future plans to her parents! She had a right to be unsure exactly what she wanted those future plans to even _be_! Not everyone could be as self-assured as he, what with his love of teaching and political aspirations.

So what if she'd begun to envision herself growing old and grey in Vermont with the surname Grant and lots of curly-haired blue-eyed babies running around making jam and joking about their silly hippie grandma and how funny her house smelled?

Did it matter that since Thanksgiving she'd been having dreams about being the first lady of Burlington; about what her engagement ring would look like (vintage, cushion cut, white gold setting); of what vegetables she'd want to plant in Fitz's backyard once spring rolled around (asparagus, garlic, rhubarb and nettles)?

Really, what was the big deal with her deciding that she could just as easily run her image consultancy from Vermont as she could from D.C., she'd just have to completely redefine her type of clientele?

Was she supposed to have shared all of this with him? Was she supposed to have even shared all of this with _herself_?

_He's such the perfect man how dare he not just read my mind and know exactly what I had been thinking?! How dare he not just _know_, intrinsically, in his very soul, that there was no way in hell I would ever leaving him?_

"How dare you be too emotionally stunted to just tell him that yourself, Olivia," she said out loud to her reflection in the mirror in a remarkable display of self-awareness as she scowled at her puffy eyes and red, runny nose and agonized over the uncertainty pooling in her stomach.

They had just had a fight.

A big one.

The very first they'd ever had.

And she was her parents daughter; stubborn and self-righteous and insecure and she did not want to admit she was wrong; that she shouldn't have tried to avoid the discussion, both with him and with her parents; that she should have never tried to use sex as a distraction; that she should have never called him so rudely to ream him out when he was perfectly justified in being pissed off at her; that she shouldn't be placing all of the blame on him when she was the one who had really been at fault.

She did not want to tuck tail and go to him but the thought of him being mad or sad, the thought of him not knowing just how desperate she was to stay and build a life with him killed her. The thought that she hadn't bothered to speak those words to him when he'd pleaded with her "Don't leave me, Livvie" nearly destroyed her. This was easily the stupidest fight of all time and it was all her fault, all because she was too scared to have difficult but necessary conversations both with Fitz and with her parents; because she was so scared of what staying would mean; which made her feel like a child all over again even though she was twenty five fucking years old.

She actively had to remind herself that she could do whatever she damn well pleased. She did not need Mommy and Daddy's approval to live her life anymore. She was just so used to _asking_ for that approval – and agonizing when she didn't receive it – that she was only now just beginning to realize how detrimental it was to her mental well-being, not to mention to her relationship with Fitz, who meant the world to her.

She glanced at her phone with the urge to call him again but feared he wouldn't pick up. And she couldn't even blame him. Maybe she should give him some space. Call him tomorrow as if nothing had happened; just see how court went and what he wanted to do for dinner? They'd never fought before and she wasn't sure how they were supposed to make up – she just knew that they _had_ to. She hated knowing that he was mad at her, that things were unsettled between them and that it was essentially all her fault.

Liv toweled dry and reluctantly dragged herself into her room to prepare for bed and what she anticipated would be a restless night. She gasped at the sight of Fitz standing in the doorway, her jaw going slack with shock. They'd exchanged keys over New Year's but she'd never anticipated him just showing up after such a bad fight, and while she supposed she should have been angry or creeped out that he hadn't even bothered to ring her doorbell, their eyes locked and one look at his expression was all it took. In one stride, she was in his arms, pulling his face to hers for a soul-stirring kiss.

"I'm so sorry," she sighed as he whispered, "I love you." She yanked him down on top of her on the bed and tightened her legs around his waist to pull his pelvis flush with hers.

"Don't leave me, Livvie," he rasped, echoing his words from earlier on the mountain as he pressed kisses along her collarbone and neck, nuzzling her throat with his nose, his scruff scratching her skin as his hands smoothed over her lush curves. Her stomach clenched with need as she reveled in his embrace, her heart squeezing so tight in her chest she felt dizzy.

No one and nothing in her entire life had ever felt as good as he did, as good as knowing that he loved her as desperately as she loved him, and there was no possible way she could ever leave him, or this.

She brought his head up so that their gazes locked and she spoke the words she should have said long ago. "Don't you know by now that I could never leave you?" Her voice caught in her throat and she swallowed a sob as she watched the words register on his handsome face, his resulting grin so beautiful it took her breath away. "I'm never moving back there. D.C. stopped being my home the moment we met." Honestly, well before that. She'd never really felt like she belonged there – it was her parents town and she had just lived in it.

"Are you sure?" His eyes were so big, so blue, and so full of hope. She imagined raising a little boy who looked just like him and her heart felt so full she thought it might burst. "I don't want you to stay for me."

"I'm staying for _me_," she said. "D.C. is my parents' life, and the life that they want for me. I've never felt like myself there. I've never been able to get out from under their shadow and just _be_. Until here and you and _us_."

"Then why haven't you told them, Livvie?"

It was a fair question and one he deserved an answer to. "Because I'm scared." And she'd never admit that to anyone but him – she could barely even admit to herself.

"You're scared they won't approve? Of me? Because I'm white?"

She smiled, so dizzy with love for him in that moment she almost couldn't breathe. "No, not because you're white." Although she didn't think they'd be over the moon about Fitz's race, she knew they would be much more upset that she wasn't coming home. "Because they want me to live my life according to their standards – that means moving back to D.C. and working at their friend's firm in the job that they secured for me and dating some boring suit who goes to their country club and summers on Martha's Vineyard like they do."

"So not because I'm white but because I'm not boring?"

She dropped her head back with a boisterous laugh and he pressed a kiss to her exposed throat, nuzzling her neck with his lips. She wrapped her arms around his head and held him there. "Because you're a symbol of what they don't want for me – a life far away from their meddling."

"So they'll hate me."

She feared they would, at first anyway, but he was so wonderful she knew he'd eventually wear them down just like he had her. And she also knew that was all his positive, glass half-full mentality rubbing off on her, yet another reason why he was the most perfect, precious thing in her whole entire world. "At first, probably," she reluctantly admitted, pushing back the curl that had fallen into his face, raking her hands over his scalp and clutching silky strands in both fists so she could pull his head up and meet his eyes. "Eventually they'll love you, just like I do. Because they'll have no choice."

"I know you're scared of your parents Livvie but I'm not." He was so self-assured, so certain, so confident that it just made her love him even more, as if that was even possible, and she leaned up to press her lips to his. "None of those boring suits will love you better than me." Another kiss.

"I can't believe you're real," she marveled as she gazed up at him.

"Feeling's mutual."

"I love you so much." She thought maybe if she said it enough it would make up for her egregiously immature and self-absorbed behavior.

"I love you more." He kissed her deeply then and stole her breath. "I'm sorry about tonight."

"Our first fight."

"And our last. I had to come over because I hate us being mad at each other."

"I cried."

"I'm sorry, Livvie." She leaned up again to kiss to his lips, pulling his body down to hers as she pressed hers into his until she wasn't certain where she ended and he began.

"_I'm_ sorry. I should have told you – and my parents – that I'm going to stay. And I shouldn't have seduced you to shut you up because I didn't want to talk about it, no matter how irresistibly gorgeous and sexy you are." He smiled at that and they kissed sweetly, noses nuzzling, and grinned at one another when they parted.

"When are you going to tell them?"

Liv frowned. "I don't know." She didn't want to think about them right now. But she couldn't keep putting this off. "Soon." She just wanted to lie in Fitz's arms and lose herself in his blue eyes. "Stay. "

"I really _do_ have court tomorrow."

"I know," she said. "Stay." She'd beg, if she had to, and then they would have both pleaded with the other not to leave them tonight. If he wasn't there to hold her she knew she'd never get to sleep.

"If you want me to."

"I want you to." Limbs wrapped around hers like vines, he looked so handsome in that moment she temporarily forgot her own name and just stared at him. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb tracing the line of her jaw, rolling over her plump lower lip, and she smiled. "I love you," she said again, because she could, because she worshipped the way he looked at her when she said those words to him. He kissed her and she lost her head, sighing dreamily, wrapping her arms around his neck as he rocked his pelvis into hers and she felt him hard and aching against her.

"Stay," she pleaded again in between kisses.

"Okay." He immediately acquiesced.

They made slow lazy love, reassuring, reaffirming, before curling up together in exhaustion; Liv sprawled across his chest with her leg tucked tightly in between his.

They slept soundly.

Shortly before dawn, Fitz awoke to extract his body from hers, pressing kisses along her shoulder as he sluggishly slipped from her bed. She reached for him sleepily, moaning his name and he kissed her fingers in reply.

"Gotta prep for court. Go back to sleep, baby."

"Mmmm," she moaned, reaching for his pillow to bury her face in it and inhale his soothing scent.

"See you tonight," he brushed his lips over her bare shoulder again. "Love you."

"Love you," she mumbled into the pillow, falling back to sleep as soon as he shut her bedroom door.

Later that morning when she padded groggily into her kitchen, coffee the only thing on her mind, her heart squeezed in her chest at the bouquet of hydrangeas sitting on the counter with the accompanying note,

_Just because._

_I love you._

_Fitz._

Her grin was so wide that her cheeks hurt. She had no idea when or where he'd had the time to get her flowers, but that was what made him the perfect man.

_Her_ perfect, _precious_ man.

Was it any wonder why she was staying?

She could definitely get used to this – a _lifetime_ of this: bouquets of her favorite flowers on the kitchen counter, sleepy good morning kisses on the way to work, body blissfully sore from hours of lovemaking. And, someday, children with her stubbornness and his untamed spirit sleeping down the hall.

As she made her coffee, she tested the words that she suddenly found on the tip of her tongue. "Olivia. Grant. Olivia Grant. Mrs. Olivia Grant."

She was a modern woman of course, but she wasn't above changing her name for true love.

And, well – Mrs. Olivia Grant definitely had a wonderful ring to it.


	8. Where Fitz Meets the Popes

**The One Where Fitz Meets the Popes **

Olivia called her parents the next weekend and told them everything.

Early Saturday morning, she quietly shut the door to Fitz's room while he sat on the couch and pretended to seriously study his Netflix queue. Although he wasn't scared of her parents, he was nervous for her and how she'd react to whatever the result of their conversation would be.

Fifteen minutes later she emerged, expression guarded and wary, and Fitz observed her equally as warily as he prepared for the rundown. Despite quite a few particularly pointed questions, her parents actually took the news surprisingly well. So well in fact, Olivia was immediately suspicious, deciding that this only meant they were saving their harshest rebukes for when they could speak to her in person – just eight weeks later when they finally came to Vermont for her graduation.

According to Liv, now that her parents knew he existed, they were _very much_ looking forward to meeting him and, he was sure, convincing her to dump him and move back home. She called them highly intelligent, calculating people who knew they wouldn't be successful convincing her to stay over the phone. They were biding their time, she said, until they could look her in the eye and intimidate her into moving back to DC.

Biding their time or not, Liv's demeanor transformed radically after that phone call. She slid into his lap on the couch, fisted his hair in her hands and kissed him with a confidence and aggression he had never seen from her before. Fitz was amazed how much one phone call could drastically alter the energy in their relationship. There was a lightness to her now, a sparkle in her eye that hadn't been there before which just emphasized what a fantastic match she was for him and how happy he was to have her by his side.

She was smart. She was funny. She was breathtakingly beautiful – the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life – and she was unbelievably sexy, so sexy he was always at least semi-hard in her presence. Just a whiff of her perfume could make him achy and wanton with need. She was the most adventurous and exciting lover he'd ever had and without a doubt, his very best friend, his partner-in-crime, his soul mate, the love of his life.

Sure, she was tightly wound and neurotic, but more than that, she was fun and unpredictable and he was never bored in her company.

She was thoughtful too, about things like bookmarking or emailing him an article that she knew he'd love; texting him when something she saw or heard brought him to mind; or giving him an extra tight hug (and long, sultry kiss) after a stressful day.

Late one Friday evening during an especially rough stretch of long hours and late nights at the firm, she surprised him with takeout from their favorite downtown Chinese restaurant and closed the door to his office to slither under his desk, unzip his pants and orally alleviate his stress.

She'd met his father too, on the way out, and Fitz was once again dazzled by his lady's grace and indefatigability; because with just a few bright, beaming smiles and well placed laughs, she had Big Jerry wrapped around her little finger, so much so his father then began making a habit out of asking where his son's "pretty little girlfriend" was every chance he got.

In five minutes flat, Liv had won his father over in a way Fitz hadn't been able to in nearly thirty-three years.

The elder Fitzgerald Grant's love for Olivia, however, didn't seem to extend to his only son.

Their relationship was as strained as ever.

One particular early evening in May, Fitz left work stewing over their latest argument about his future at the firm. He was in such a foul mood the sight of Liv's car in his driveway only made it worse because he really didn't want any company when he was in this frame of mind. The only thing that he wanted was to be alone.

As he parked beside her cute little black BMW (so impractical for harsh Vermont winters – he'd had to help her pick out snow tires – but very in keeping with the DC princess she'd been up until this point), he was certain that he'd be grumpy and mean all night if he didn't get some time alone to stew. But based on the music blaring and aromas wafting through the open kitchen windows as he approached the back door, there would be no avoiding, sulking, or wallowing for him tonight.

Which pissed him off even more.

So when he pulled open the back door to the sounds of Motown, Fitz ignored how delicious the room smelled and prepared to pick a fight with the new source of his ire.

But then he saw her.

Olivia – a breathtaking vision clad in a red plaid flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose delicate wrists and tiny shorts showcasing caramel-colored legs so long they made his mouth water. Although she usually slept in skimpy cotton nighties (for which he was eternally grateful), she preferred to lounge around the house in these equally indelicate PJ sets; and he was reminded once again that red plaid had never, ever looked sexier than on her.

She stood at the stove with her back to him singing along to Teddy Pendergrass, bare feet tapping on the floor to the beat as she moved her hips and stirred something in a pot. Her dark hair was piled high atop her head in a messy bun, exposing the long line of the back of her neck, and his mouth went dry as he felt instantly mollified by the sight of his woman completely at home in his kitchen preparing dinner.

Smiling as he stepped inside and quietly shut the screened door behind him (just as Teddy crooned _"close the door" _through the stereo), he watched Liv continue to dance and sing completely oblivious to his presence behind her. He had been crazy to think he needed to be alone tonight. Of course what he needed was her. What he _always_ needed was her.

Dropping his briefcase in a chair at the table, he slid behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, chuckling when she gasped and stiffened in his embrace, tilting her head back to meet his eyes.

"Hi," he said as he stared down at her, foolish grin on his face. "Expecting someone else?"

"Hi!" She blushed and he leaned down to kiss her, sucking her plump lower lip between his teeth and nibbling on the flesh as he pulled away. "I'm making steak."

His stomach growled. "Mmmm. Smells like it." He peered around her into the pot. "With mashed potatoes?"

"Yup. And Brussels sprouts are roasting in the oven."

Just the way he liked them.

She was perfect and he was so lucky to have her. His arm tightened around her waist as he nuzzled her neck and watched her continue to mash and stir the potatoes. "How'd you know that I needed you tonight? Are you a mind reader?"

He felt her smile against his face and responded with a kiss to the side of her throat. "I called your office earlier and Lauren told me you were in a meeting with your dad."

His secretary Lauren was well aware of the discord between him and the elder Fitzgerald Grant.

"That was all it took, huh?"

"I know you," she said simply, shrugging one shoulder. She did know him, and he loved her for it, taking the opportunity to pull the soft neckline of her shirt away to press a kiss to the bare skin of her shoulder, pleasantly surprised to discover she wasn't wearing a bra. She gasped as he slid a hand underneath the hem of the shirt to cup her soft, full breast in his palm.

"Your fingers are cold!" Liv breathed as her nipple immediately hardened beneath his touch, perfectly choreographed to the hardening in his pants, and he dipped his pelvis into hers until she was pressed up against the stove.

"Down boy," she laughed even while pressing back into him, whimpering as he continued to roll her nipple between his fingers and trail wet kisses down her neck. "Dinner's almost ready. Let's save playtime for later."

"I love you being here," he murmured against her ear as he tightened his arms around her. He was crowding her space when he should leave her to finish dinner, but he was feeling surprisingly needy at the moment and craved the contact. He didn't want to let her go just yet. Holding her was therapeutic after the day he'd had. "You make this house a home, Livvie."

He'd been thinking about asking her to move in with him once her lease expired in July. She practically lived with him as it was; with her toothbrush holding pride of place in the medicine cabinet beside his own; her bright purple loofah dangling from his shower head and a few of her beloved satin pillowcases replacing his standard cotton ones (she'd said something about "ethnic hair" and he just went along with it because he loved her and, well, the satin _was_ very soft). She also had two drawers in his armoire and an entire closet in one of his guest bedrooms that seemed to get fuller by the week.

To Fitz, it was the logical next step. No need for her to waste money paying rent when she slept at his house five or six nights out of the week anyway (the rest he was with her at her apartment because they hadn't spent a night apart in months).

He'd bought this house a few years back as an investment after he'd been promoted to junior partner and the three big guest bedrooms and spacious backyard ached for a family, the kind of family he knew he and Liv were destined to make together.

"I love being here," she said simply as she reached to shut off the music and check on the steak and Brussels in the oven. He reluctantly stepped back to give her space, removing his hand from her shirt with one last brush over her pert nipple, thrilling in the way her breath caught in her throat as he did so.

Eyeing the bottle of her favorite red wine (the perfect pairing for a succulent steak) open on the far counter, he grabbed himself a glass and poured, topping off her half empty one in the process. She grinned at him as she accepted the glass and took a sip before setting it aside to remove the steak and Brussels from the oven and fix their plates.

He lit the two tapered candles at the center of the table, appreciating the small vase of hydrangeas sandwiched between. Liv's taste had begun to permeate virtually every aspect of his home and he loved that she felt safe enough to do so.

As he watched her set the plates down, he suddenly felt completely powerless to the love between them, pulling her against him to cover her lips with his. Cupping her face in his hands, he devoured her mouth and she melted into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck, rising to the tips of her toes and pressing her body into his.

When she threaded her fingers through his hair, he was gone.

_God, I love kissing this woman,_ he thought as he did just that, drinking from her lips like a starved man stumbling upon a mirage in the desert.

Her kisses were like a drug. Her pillowy lips were so soft and flavorful; the teasing and tasting of her tongue intoxicating; the little sounds she made in her throat hardening his dick like ice. Every rake of her fingers over his scalp riddled him with wanton, desperate, achy need.

Eventually, when it became breathe or die, Liv smiled against his lips and leaned her head back, pupils blown wide as they tried to focus on his face. She was panting and he could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest as his hands slid down her arms. He lingered on the pulse point at her wrists, enjoying how fast it was racing before lacing his fingers through hers. He loved the effect he had on her – nothing made him feel more powerful or alive than the way she came undone in his arms.

Reluctantly he stepped back so they could sit and eat, stealing another kiss across the table after they settled in.

"Thank you," he said simply as he picked up his knife and fork and she smiled so beautifully she stole his breath.

"Do I win the Best Girlfriend of the Year award or what?" she asked; her eyes twinkling as she looked at him with cheeks and lips rosy and bee stung from his kisses. 

In that moment, he saw his entire life and future in those eyes – Liv in a beautiful white gown with hydrangeas in her hair as she walked toward him, Liv by his side as he made his victory speech on election night, Liv in a hospital bed holding their newborn baby in her arms, Liv's face on the pillow next to him when he went to sleep every night and woke up every morning.

A life.

With Liv.

So vivid was his imagination in that moment, Fitz felt a sudden overwhelming urge to propose to her right there. He found the words "Marry me" literally on the tip of his tongue and had to bite them back, shoving a forkful of delicious steak into his mouth instead. The rush of love for her was so strong he was almost dizzy with it, the realization striking him in that instant that moving in wasn't enough and would never be enough. He thought he could be content with baby steps, knowing she spooked at a pin drop, but he now felt so painfully impatient and desperate to just take her down to city hall and make her his wife he didn't know what to do with himself.

He wanted an eternity with this woman, coming home to her, kissing her until they were vibrating with need, making love to her until they were boneless with exhaustion, having and raising babies, maybe even getting a dog or two (never a cat; he hated cats).

"You win the Best Girlfriend _Ever_ award," he corrected as he finally found words that would not qualify as a proposal. He thought about what an incredible wife and mother she'd make and wondered how long he could hold out before he asked her. "I was in such a bad mood until the moment I walked through that door and saw you."

She frowned as she studied his face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He didn't. Or at least, he _thought_ he didn't, just like he thought he wanted to be alone tonight. But somehow, his Livvie, she got him to open up about things he never thought he would. "He wants me to take on more work at the firm. Told me now that the school year's ending it's time for me to give up on my 'little hobby,' 'be a real man' and commit long term to the business."

She scowled and he loved her for it.

"So he offered me a senior partnership."

Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped. "Fitz! That's great!" But when she saw the expression on his face, she bit her lip and frowned. "Right?"

He shrugged. "Right. Of course. If I wanted to keep practicing law. If I even cared about being on the partner track." Fitz sighed. "I know that sounds so ungrateful. People go to law school _dreaming_ of making partner one day. But that had _never_ been _my_ dream; I'd just been too scared to tell my father that. We'd never been close and in some stupid way I thought me following in his footsteps, going to Harvard Law, becoming an attorney, he'd like me, we'd have that bond that other fathers have with their sons. And now here I am and I just feel like I can't get out. If I accept, I'd definitely have to cut back at school, if not give up teaching there all together, and he knows that. So this is his way of manipulating me."

He took a deep breath, completely unburdened from venting that stream of consciousness, and stared at the flickering flame atop one of the candles at the center of the table.

His deepest, darkest fears about his relationship with his father were being realized. He had never been good enough and he would never be good enough. Because fundamentally he was just a different person than his father wanted him to be, and the old man simply couldn't accept that.

"What do you _want_ to do?" Liv asked, breaking his reverie.

He sighed again and thought about it all logically. "Well, it _is_ a good look for me professionally. In a lot of ways, it would be beneficial for when I want to run for office down the line. It'd give me more power to practice the kind of law I like." And likely draw him into cases he didn't. "I just don't want to cut back on my classes to do it. You know me, Livvie. I _need_ to keep teaching." It was corny, but the classroom was therapeutic for him. He loved talking to his students and feeling like he was helping to change lives and change minds. He didn't have the same passion about practicing law and he certainly didn't want to give up teaching altogether to do it.

"Well, you're a Harvard educated attorney. So, negotiate." She shrugged as she scooped a huge forkful of mashed potato into her mouth and spoke around it. "Tell him you'll only do it if you get one day off a week to teach. And I'm sure you can work something out at the university and schedule your classes all for that one day."

Fitz laughed. She was already crisis managing for him. "You make that sound so simple."

Her eyes twinkled as they regarded him over the candlelight. "I just know that I'm not the only one in this relationship who's scared of what my daddy thinks of me."

He frowned at her candor. She was so discerning and self-aware. She was also, of course, right.

They'd been dating for six months and already she knew him better than anyone.

She'd finally – _finally_ – told her parents that she was going to stay in Vermont. The fact that she'd made that leap with her family in the first place, conquering what had been such a huge fear of hers, inspired him to be that brave with his own father.

He just refused to rush into a decision either way. He had to think about what would benefit his long-term goals in addition to what would make him happiest. In the meantime, he would put off making a choice until he was certain it was the right one.

They ate in comfortable silence for the rest of the meal and cleaned the kitchen together after, Liv putting the food away while he tackled the dishes.

It was a chilly evening for early May, even for Vermont, cold enough that he built them a fire so they could cuddle on the couch. Liv tucked herself against his side as he graded papers and she flipped through a few culinary magazines in search of new spring recipes. It was peaceful; it was domestic; it was a sign of what the rest of their lives together would be and Fitz looked forward to a lifetime of moments just like it.

Two weeks later when Liv's name was called on graduation day and she walked across the stage to accept her diploma, he was certain he hollered louder than any other friend or family member there. His heart clenched in his chest when he saw that bold and beautiful grin break across her face as she looked and waved in his direction.

Oversized bouquet of white hydrangeas and calla lilies in his arms, he wrestled his way through the crowd to get a good position at the end of the processional, his height affording him a good view of the graduates as they winded down the aisle to the sounds of raucous applause. When he caught sight of his love sheathed in her shiny black robe, she looked ethereally beautiful, dark hair billowing about her face and bright Vermont sunlight reflected in her eyes. She beamed as their gazes locked and he vibrated on his feet as he waited for her to reach him. The second she did, he handed her the bouquet and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

"Congrats, Livvie," he murmured as she dipped her nose into the flowers to inhale their fragrant scent. "I'm so proud of you."

She tilted her head with a smile so brilliant he temporarily forgot his own name and constricted his hold on her waist as she leaned up on her toes to brush her lips against his. "Thank you, baby. I'm proud of me too." He chuckled as she gestured to the flowers in her hand. "These are beautiful."

They were staring into one another's eyes, completely oblivious to those around them as he stroked her cheek and marveled over how much he loved her and how excited he was for her, when –

"Olivia."

She stiffened immediately at the stern tone accompanied by a rather obvious throat clearing, her eyes nearly doubling in size as she slowly turned in the direction of the voice to address the person it belonged to.

"Hi, Daddy."

_Here we go,_ Fitz thought, ignoring the fissure of unease that slid down his back. _The moment of truth has finally arrived._

He impressed himself with how casually he stepped back from Liv – although still close enough to touch – and afforded himself the opportunity to study Eli Pope as intently as he was studying Fitz. The man looked the exact same as he did in photographs Liv had in her apartment – average height, well-tailored suit, big brown eyes the spitting image of his daughter's despite the humorlessness reflected within them. The woman beside him, Maya –taller than her husband by a few inches in white pumps that matched an impeccably tailored white sun dress – reviewed him with an equally guarded expression that reminded Fitz exactly of Olivia the afternoon they had first met at the DMV.

Liv forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes as she turned in her mother's direction. "Mom." She shoved the bouquet back at Fitz as she reached to hug both of her parents, so quickly and halfheartedly it was as if she thought she'd catch something, and then stepped back to address him, her eyes wide and pleading as she said, "This is Fitz. Fitz, these are my parents, Eli and Maya Pope."

Both were kind enough at least smile (however coldly) as they shook his hand, and it didn't go unnoticed by Fitz that Eli's handshake was rather firm and imposing. But at 6'2, he had _several_ inches on Liv's father and found the height afforded him even more confidence than he had gone into the afternoon feeling.

Sure they were cold, and quiet, and regarded him suspiciously – but so had Olivia when they first met and he'd worn her down eventually. Her folks didn't seem _so_ bad, not really. Not _yet_, anyway.

"Very nice to finally meet the two of you," he said, smiling warmly, to put both himself _and _Olivia at ease.

_Brunch will be a breeze, brunch will be a breeze, brunch will be a breeze._ He thought if he kept repeating that mantra in his head it would prove true.

"Lovely to meet you, Fitz," Maya said with a big smile that wasn't friendly or genuine at all. "Livvie has told us so much about you." The _finally_ wasn't said, but it was clearly implied.

"Likewise," Fitz responded, not even blinking as Liv took the flowers back from him and held them against her like a shield when she turned to address her parents. "Fitz made a reservation at our favorite restaurant downtown. They make a great Moscow Mule, mom," Liv said, mentioning her mother's favorite cocktail. ("The Popes like to drink about as much as your mom likes to smoke pot," she had told him one night.)

"Great. I'm starving," Maya said, literally clutching the long strand of pearls around her neck so dramatically Fitz had to force himself not to roll his eyes. When Liv slid her hand into his and laced their fingers together, he looked down into her face and saw all of the anxiety naked in her features. He lightly brushed his thumb against the back of her palm to soothe her, resulting in a smile so beautiful he couldn't help smiling back; and he stared at her so long he forgot her parents were even there.

But halfway through brunch, Fitz realized Liv was right – they _were_ biding their time before talking her into going home. Her mother was much more passive aggressive about it while her father cut straight to the chase (Fitz figured the years of experience Liv said he had in government made him impervious to bullshit). After their first round of champagne to celebrate her graduation, Eli Pope leaned across the table and glowered in Fitz's face.

"So what are your intentions for my baby girl?"

Liv groaned and rolled her eyes so he didn't have to. "Oh, God, Daddy. Please! Stop!"

Fitz smiled at her, placing a reassuring hand on her knee beneath the table. "It's okay, Livvie. He has a right to ask." He turned his attention to her father and said without hesitation, "I love her."

"Have you dated a lot of black women before, Fitz?" Maya asked while intently studying the inside of her glass.

He would have laughed at how bored she sounded if he wasn't annoyed and offended by the question. Instead, he forced a smile as he looked at Liv and took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "Nope. Liv's my first."

"Mmm hmm," Eli said cynically. "So what are your intentions here?"

"_Intentions"? Seriously? People still used that term? _

Fitz literally had to close his eyes and take a deep breath because the question irritated him so much he didn't trust what might come out of his mouth if he didn't.

The truth was that he had a _lot_ of intentions for Olivia, none of which he felt were any of her parents' business and certainly none of which he wanted to tell them _right now_. So he looked at her face and allowed himself be calmed by the love for him he saw in her eyes. "My intentions, Mr. Pope, are to love your daughter and make her happy and support her in any decisions that she chooses to make."

"Such as her decision to give up her life in D.C. and stay here to be with you?"

Liv's hand tightened on his reflexively as she leaned in and glared at her father across the table. "Dad. _Stop_." Her tone was forceful and there was no "please" this time.

Eli's grin was cruel and insincere and Fitz completely understood why Olivia was scared of him. In that moment, her father reminded him so much of his own Fitz could hardly believe it. In many ways, it was like looking in into the face of his own dad, into a window of his own life. No wonder he and Olivia had such a strong connection – they were kindred spirits who essentially had been raised by the same man.

"Livvie, you can't possibly blame a father for wanting to interrogate the man his daughter claims to love."

_Claims_. Fitz felt the anger roll over him in waves but reached for his beer and took a long gulp to steady his nerves.

"I do love him," Olivia said carefully. Fitz could tell by her tone that she was trying to keep her voice down and avoid drawing attention to their table. "And it is _my_ choice to stay. _My_ decision. End of discussion." Her pitch was clipped and Fitz marveled with pride over how resolutely she was staring them down.

He was impressed.

But her parents were unmoved.

Eli regarded her skeptically and Maya with what Fitz realized was her default expression – patent boredom. It was no wonder why Liv didn't want to go home. These people were so humorless, so self-serious and so taciturn. It appeared to be a miracle that Olivia turned out to be the warm, loving, vibrant woman she was.

The rest of brunch was rather awkward and painful but Eli seemed to have moved on from his intention to offer Fitz the third degree. They made polite conversation about this or that and weathered a rather uncomfortable exchange when Eli realized that Fitz had quietly taken care of the bill without his knowledge. Fitz felt that it was an appropriate course of action to illustrate that he was the kind of old-fashioned, well-mannered man who could and would take care of Olivia, and that he certainly did not expect or anticipate a free ride (or meal) from her parents.

"Thank you, baby," Liv said warmly as he handed off his signed receipt (featuring a generous tip for the poor waiter who had to endure the pretentious, high-maintenance culinary requests of the D.C. Popes) and flashed her first genuine smile of the afternoon as she cupped his face in her hands to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Her mother rather indelicately cleared her throat (just as she had earlier when they'd first met) and Liv rolled her eyes as she pulled away.

As they stood to leave, she linked her fingers through his, stroking the side of his palm with her thumb as they walked hand-in-hand out of the restaurant to the parking lot. When they reached the curb, Olivia stopped and turned to look up into his face, clearly uneasy as she worried her lower lip with her teeth. "I'm gonna go… with them… for a bit…" She frowned and looked down almost shyly, reminding him more of a chastised child than the grown woman she was.

He hated the thought of her going off with them and hated himself even more for the quick rush of anxiety racing through him that they would somehow wear her down and convince her to move back to D.C. if he wasn't there to stop them. But she hadn't seen her parents since Christmas and she should spend some time alone with them, no matter how miserably mean and judgmental they seemed.

"Okay," he murmured, unable to resist the urge to trace the outline of her cheek with his thumb. He was mildly aware of Maya and Eli glaring at the two of them from a few feet away but they never parted without kissing goodbye and he'd be damned if today – right _now_ – would be the first exception. She smiled as he leaned down to press his lips softly to hers and he treasured the shaky sigh she exhaled as he pulled away. "I love you," she mouthed to him as she stepped back and he winked at her before reluctantly bringing his gaze back to her parents.

"It was lovely meeting the two of you, truly."

Maya smirked wordlessly as Eli nodded and held out his hand. "Goodbye, Fitz." His tone was final and his grip was even firmer than earlier when they'd first met.

Fitz wasn't intimidated, only annoyed.

And he knew that if he went home he'd just obsess over how it was going with them and while he certainly could go by his office as it was just a few blocks away, he didn't want to do that either.

So he gave his buddy Cyrus a call and drove over to his place to drink beer and watch the NBA playoffs, which made for a great distraction.

He didn't keep checking his phone to see if she had called or texted him. He didn't want to be that guy. He was confident in Liv's love for him. He knew that she wanted to stay in Vermont – she'd already lined up work freelancing for the university and the Burlington Boys and Girls Club and she had a few other meetings set up through some friends.

He knew all of that logically.

But he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that meeting her parents in the flesh had shaken him just a little. Because he _finally_ understood why she could be so skittish, not just in their relationship but in _life_, and he knew that it would take much more than one big fight with your boyfriend and one phone call with your parents to undo a lifetime's worth of insecurities.

But most of all, he was worried about her. He didn't like the look he saw in her eyes as she left with them – like a prisoner being sent to her doom. She wasn't the bright, vibrant Livvie he knew. She was a dejected shadow of her former self. He just needed to know if she was okay.

Ten o'clock rolled around and still no word from Liv so Fitz decided it was time to head home. "Don't sweat it," Cy said, slapping him on the back as he walked him to the door. "Liv's crazy about you. And she's a smart cookie. She knows she just needs to placate and humor them for a night. She's not going anywhere."

Again, he knew that logically but… still.

Unable to help himself, he sent her a text before he drove off.

_Everything okay?_

When he pulled into his driveway twenty minutes later and she still hadn't responded, he forced the worry away. He sank into the plush leather of his couch, turned on his Apple TV and flickered through his Netflix queue as he searched for something mindless that would distract him from thoughts of Olivia.

He awoke with a start sometime after midnight to the sound of the back door slamming shut. Groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he blinked in the direction of the noise and felt his heart catch in his chest as Liv came into view, moving swiftly across the living room in his direction.

"Hey," he said gruffly, narrowing his eyes to study her face as she approached. "How…?"

He didn't get the words out, struck speechless by the tears streaming down her face as she reached him and climbed into his lap to wrap her arms tightly around him and bury her wet face in his neck.

Instinctively, his arms tightened with her in his embrace and he pressed a kiss to her forehead as she cried softly in his neck, tears tickling the side of his throat. "I love you," she whispered the words into his skin and he smiled despite the wariness he felt.

"Love you too baby."

"Just hold me, okay?"

"Of course."

They stayed like that for a long time.

He stroked her back as she quietly cried in his arms, pressing her cheek flat against his chest to soothe herself with the vibration of his beating heart. Eventually he carried her into his room, kicking the door shut as he carefully lay her down on the mattress. She promptly snuggled beneath the covers while he took a few minutes to build a fire before moving back toward the bed. She reached for him, pulling him down with her so she could wrap her body around him, sliding a leg between his, throwing her arm over his chest.

"How'd it go?" He asked quietly after several long minutes where he realized she wasn't going to divulge the information voluntarily.

She sighed, shrugging a shoulder. "They tried and failed. I'm exhausted."

He decided not to pry, instead tilting her head up to press a soft kiss to her lips. "Get some sleep baby." That was all the permission she needed, immediately falling into slumber.

In the morning he awoke to bright sunlight streaming through the window and Olivia's glorious face on the pillow next to him. Every day he was completely awestruck by her beauty and had to remind himself she was real; she was here; she was his. Leaning in to close the distance between their lips, he pressed his mouth to hers and was treated to her bright smile; her eyes still closed as her top arm flew out to wrap around his neck.

"Morning," he whispered, his heart fluttering in his chest when she finally opened those big gorgeous eyes to look at him.

"Hi," she replied softly, blinking drowsily at him, her hand sliding up from his neck to trace fingers along his jaw, scruffy with new growth. He knew that she loved him scruffy and winked at her, laughing when she did as he reached out to stroke her cheek. They stared at one another, grinning like two fools and enjoying the silence as they appreciated the lines and planes and dips and curves of each other's faces.

He wanted this peace and contentment every morning, every day, all of the time, for the rest of their lives.

"What happened yesterday?" He asked.

She bit her lip, clearly mulling over what to say, and he leaned up to nip at it gently. "Hey," he whispered. "You can tell me anything. It's okay."

She smiled and let out a deep, reluctant sigh. "They told me while you certainly weren't nearly as bad as they had expected, you're also certainly not good enough to forfeit my entire life and future in D.C."

He scoffed but let her continue.

"I kept insisting that I wasn't staying just because I'm madly in love with you, I'm staying because I love it _here_. I love the mountains, I love the lake; I love downtown Burlington on Friday nights and going to brunch at Penny Cluse on Saturday and having dinner at your mom's on Sunday. I love Quinn and Abby – I don't have friends like them in Washington, not really. I love the idea of starting my business _here_ and instead of having clientele comprised of corrupt politicians and their trophy wives and girlfriends, I can work with the university and the Boys & Girls Club and the labor unions… It's good work, Fitz. It's _honest_ work. _That's_ what I want for my life, not what they want or what they have."

He must have just been staring at her because she suddenly looked shy and unsure and worried that gorgeous lower lip of hers between her teeth. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

The words flew out. "Move in with me," he said before he could edit himself and carefully studied her face as he steeled himself for her certain freak out.

Instead she laughed. "What? Right now? You're funny."

Relieved, he laughed too. He'd take jovial dismissal over a panic attack and decided there was definitely room for negotiating. "I'm serious."

Her face softened and he was floored that she really hadn't realized he meant it. Her eyes were big and bright as she nodded and leaned in to kiss him. "Okay then." _Kiss_. "Yes." _Another kiss._

He chuckled against her lips. "Really? That easy, huh? I thought for sure I'd have to convince you."

She laughed but he could tell she was nervous. "Well…. I _did_ always say I would never move in with a guy until we were at least engaged…" She avoided eye contact, staring at a spot on the pillow in front of her, and clearly had no idea what she'd just said was literally music to his ears.

"Oh, have I not proposed to you yet?"

Her laugh was so loud and boisterous his heart clenched. She waved her left hand in his face, gesturing with her thumb to her bare ring finger. "Do you see a diamond here?"

"Not yet." Kissing her quickly, he pinched her ass and grinned when she yelped. "But there will be."

Someday soon, he hoped.

Her jaw dropped and she gaped at him, eyes twinkling with mirth and happiness and light and love and he was completely captivated by her beauty; overwhelmed with visions of a lifetime with her by his side; certain he'd be more in love with her five, ten, fifteen and twenty years on than he was in that very moment.

He was going to marry this woman.

His mind was racing with the where, when, and how of it all, but there was time. Time to make it perfect, time to make sure they were both really ready – all the time in the world, he hoped, to really make it right.

"Good," she finally said, her dreamy sigh exploding into a shrill shriek as he abruptly rolled her over and covered her body with his, pressing warm, sloppy kisses to her throat and collarbone. She fisted his hair in her hand and brought his head up so their eyes could meet. "I'm gonna say yes. You know that right? I'm gonna say yes."

He did but God it was so wonderful to hear. "I know."

She gasped as his hand slid up to cup her breast, plumping the flesh in his palm.

"Now shut up so I can get you naked."

Her giggles quickly dissolved to moans.


	9. The One With Fitz's Birthday Party

**A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE WONDERFUL RECEPTION TO THIS STORY! I hope you all are enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it. **

**One comment I have to make: I received an anonymous review complaining that me describing Olivia as "caramel skinned" was "whitewashing/tokenizing" her as a black woman. First of all, I'M a black woman so that's offensive. Second of all, those of you who have read this story can probably tell that I like to be visual and illustrative with my writing. Caramel is actually a pretty good adjective for KW's skin tone, google images of her and google the word "caramel" and you'll see what I mean. I wanted to be a bit more poetic with my description of Olivia than "black," as I was trying to illustrate the depth of Fitz's attraction to her and portray her beauty as ethereally as possible. Lastly, I've read countless fics (many of them brilliant) that gloss over or ignore Olivia's blackness completely, and I have no intention of doing the same, nor do I have any intention of making any social or racial commentary about her blackness. But I'm also not going to ignore or gloss over her race or the fact that she's in an interracial relationship either because I personally feel that both irresponsible and unrealistic. **

**That's all! On to the story – the longest chapter by far. 23 pages (!), 9200+ words (!) Hope you enjoy. **

Olivia Pope was convinced that summers in Vermont were a religious experience. The mountains had never looked more brilliantly green and the sky and lake had never been more vibrantly blue. The sun shined brighter, the birds sang louder and she was happier than she had ever been in her entire life.

She'd held firm and stood up to her parents. And even though they were more or less estranged at the moment, she actually felt pretty hopeful about where things stood with them.

They would come around eventually.

They had no choice.

She'd graduated (summa cum laude) with a master's degree and several freelance offers that would be the linchpin to helping her start her business.

But best of all, and most importantly, things were fantastically solid with Fitz. Even though her lease wasn't up until July, she essentially moved in with him right away. Since that morning in bed when they'd unofficially talked marriage, she'd felt so safe, secure and sated she didn't look back as their relationship continued to grow even more serious.

The first Friday night after she'd moved in, they met Quinn, Abby and their boyfriends at a low-key dive bar down by the lake. It was dark and dingy and rustically New England, packed with college students and locals alike, and Liv couldn't help feeling smug pride as she watched countless women at the bar drooling over her man.

_Sorry, ladies. He's all mine._

Fitz's height and build already made him a standout, and that face… Liv sometimes found herself staring at him – often he'd be staring back – admiring the broad expanse of his shoulders, the curl in his hair, the sparkle in his eye – and she'd marvel over the fact that that gorgeous human being belonged to _her_.

It was Memorial Day weekend and they were all turned up having fun; shooting pool, playing darts, swaying to the golden oldies coming from the vintage jukebox. Drunk and horny, Liv stayed close to Fitz's side, stealing kisses from her sexy boyfriend every chance she got.

"Get a room you two," Abby's boyfriend David complained while she had her hands in Fitz's hair and he nuzzled her neck, pressing kisses to her ear.

"You're right, he's a dick," she whispered and she and Fitz both laughed.

David's relationship with Abby was relatively fresh, but he was a Burlington DA whom Fitz knew professionally and thought very little of and had told Liv a few stories that made her skeptical about her friend's choice of mate. Abby didn't have the best taste in men from what Liv had been told, but she figured as long as this guy didn't get physical the way Abby's last boyfriend had, she would stay out of it.

Quinn – who was quite the partier – brought over a tray of shots and Liv groaned into Fitz's neck, already feeling pretty intoxicated and certain a pickleback shot – whatever the fuck that was – was _not_ what the doctor ordered.

Times like these she felt like a pretentious high-class DC princess because she _really_ didn't understand some of the weird shit that New Englanders were into.

"Take it easy, Livvie," Fitz said as she reached for a shot anyway and she glared at him; breaking into a grin when he pursed his lips in response and looked so gorgeous she couldn't resist leaning in to kiss him. He groaned low in his throat, almost like a growl, and bent his knees to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her up against him. She squealed against his mouth and he took the opportunity to slip her his tongue and soon they were just making out in public like a couple of drunken teenagers.

Which, essentially, they were.

Well, _she_ was.

Fitz, being the responsible, wonderful grown man he was, only had two beers and a shot and didn't even appear to be buzzed.

"Someone needs to drive us home," he said, shaking his head when Quinn offered him one of the picklebacks.

At his use of the word "home," she felt warm and gooey on the inside (and between her legs) and thought about her large oak table now standing in the center of his dining room and her Nana's beloved rocking chair tucked by the big bay window in his living room and it was no longer just _his_ place anymore, it was _theirs_ and she thought _home_ and then she was kissing him again.

But it did not take long for Liv to realize that the shot was a terrible idea.

By the time they got into the car to head _home_ (she ached at the thought), she felt increasingly, painfully nauseated. Dread coiled with the queasiness in her belly as she tried to fight panic about just how sick she actually was. She rolled down the window, closing her eyes as she stuck her head out and let the breeze whip her face.

Fitz frowned, reaching across the car to rub his hand over her knee.

"You okay, baby?"

She moaned pitifully, sounding to her ears like an animal dying, and mumbled, "Nooo. Gonna be sick."

"_Now_?"

Unable to talk for fear she'd projectile vomit all over the dashboard, she just shook her head, waving him off with a flick of her wrist, and silently prayed that they'd be home soon. She felt the roiling pit of nausea twisting in her core, her vision blurred and gray, her entire body on fire as sweat began popping up on her brow and dampening the armpits of her silk blouse.

Fitz stroked her knee as he drove and if she wasn't feeling like she was going to die she'd marvel openly over how tender and sweet he was being, and how horribly embarrassed she was that she was so numb with nausea all she could do was pray she didn't puke her guts out all over his beloved vintage Range Rover. She squeezed her eyes shut tight as she dipped her face out the window, the feel of the wind whipping across her face and through her hair the only soothing sensation in a world of pain, and she white-knuckled her grip on the door handle.

_Please get me home, please get me home, please get me home, _she prayed over and over, too sick to agonize over the fact that she and Fitz had only officially lived together for one week and here she was about to be grotesquely sick all over his car and his – No. _Their _– house and he'd probably never look at her the same way again.

She wallowed in drunken despair at the thought.

His penis, his beautiful, thick, long, perfect pink penis that she loved so much because it brought her so much pleasure would never get hard for her again after tonight. She was certain of it. Because of how drunk and how sick she was, she was positive that the consequences would be that bad.

Of course, she was also aware that her intoxication was making her ridiculous because her brain seemed to be stuck on how perfect her boyfriend's penis was and the tragedy of him never wanting her to touch it again.

Somehow by the grace of God and Fitz's excellent driving skills, he pulled into their driveway without her hurling. But when she opened her eyes the Earth swam, tilting on its axis dramatically, and she whimpered piteously in response.

"Livvie," he said compassionately, and she felt so much worse, so embarrassed she was acting like a cliché drunk sorority girl slumped over at the frat house because she couldn't handle her liquor.

"I'm sorry," she whined pathetically, and he chuckled, alighting out of the car so fast it made her head swim even more, and he was around the vehicle opening her door even faster. She couldn't help how she drooped over into his arms, so dizzy and drunk she needed his strength to hold her upright and help her inside.

Now that the wind wasn't blowing in her face, the nausea boiled up so strong and fast she felt the gag beginning deep in her intestines.

"Fitz," she whimpered as he helped her inside. "Bathroom."

She'd never make it to their room at this rate so he walked her to the half bath off the entry way and quickly flipped up the lid and seat as they both dropped to the floor. Liv barely had time to appreciate the softness of the bath mat beneath her knees and Fitz the time to grab the curtain of hair sliding into her face before she leaned over the bowl and retched so loud her throat burned, nose clogged, and ears rang from the full brunt force of it.

The misery had begun in earnest and she sobbed as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet, belly heaving and shoulders shaking as she vomited, tears streaming from her eyes while wave after wave of brutal, gut-wrenching nausea tore through her.

Fitz settled in, crossing his legs as he held her hair back from her face so effortlessly it was as if she regularly puked her guts out like this. He produced a hair elastic or rubber band or something out of thin air to tie the strands into a bun and gently rubbed her back as she continued to heave into the toilet.

"Let it all out, baby." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and she sobbed and choked from the sweetness of it, whimpering when he suddenly rose to his feet above her.

"I'll be right back."

She continued to retch while he was gone, loathe to accept that she was completely humiliating herself in front of him and she'd never be able to get this mental image out of her head so she _knew_ _he_ never would.

He returned with a bottle of water, aspirin, and pillow and she pushed herself up from her position slumped over the toilet, somehow managing to stop compulsively vomiting long enough to blink up at him blearily even as the shudders and dry heaves still wracking her body convinced her she was dying.

He dropped the pillow on top of the bath mat in front of the sink and gestured for her to lay her head there. When she tried, the room spun violently and she yelped in agony.

"Can't lay down. Spins," she mumbled, and Fitz smiled sympathetically, brushing a strand of hair from her sweat-slicked forehead.

"Okay. Later." He helped her take off her shoes to rub the soles of her feet and she moaned, rolling her neck to lean into the wall and prop her forehead there.

"Never drinking again," she grumbled, praying to God that the queasiness would pass soon. "Alcohol is stupid."

Fitz chuckled softly as he moved his hands up to massage her calves. "Famous last words."

Feeling silly, Liv giggled in spite of herself and then burped harshly and suddenly out of nowhere. Whining miserably, she covered her face in embarrassment when Fitz laughed out loud at the horrifyingly un-ladylike sound.

"Oh God!" She cried. "I'm so repellent." She peered through her fingers into his face, shocked by the mirth dancing in his eyes. "Why are you smiling!? Why haven't you run for the hills? I know you're never going to want to have sex with me again after this!"

She hated how pathetic and whiny and passive aggressive she sounded (sometimes she really _was_ her mother's daughter) but she was nauseated and sick and her intestines felt like they were exploding from the inside out and she was certain her digestive system was rebuking her in the harshest way possible for her rather laissez-faire attitude toward alcohol earlier that evening.

Fitz laughed again as he leaned up to flush the toilet, dropping the lid and seat back down with a loud pop that made her wince. She wished she were as confident as he that she was finished but the way her stomach was roiling and the room still swimming, she was not so sure. She couldn't even focus on that offensively handsome face of his, the general area of his head pixelated in dark shadows of slate grey in the soft light of the bathroom (she was so grateful he'd put in dimmers here as they helped her maintain some small semblance of dignity).

"Oh I'm quite certain I will."

She scoffed, glancing down at her marigold yellow silk blouse stained with sweat and drips of what looked like vomit – _Oh God, I'll have to throw it out_, she despaired – and her dark blue skinny jeans that felt three million sizes too tight she'd at some point unbuttoned the top button and unzipped the zipper (but had no recollection how or when) so her distended belly had room to breathe (and gurgle and pinch and stab and destroy her). Even though the loose neck of her blouse revealed the sheer black lace camisole and even lacier black bra beneath, her breasts heaving with exhaustion; she'd sweat through each layer and felt (and _looked_), to her mind, positively grotesque.

And of course, in addition to sweating all her makeup off, she'd sweat her hair out too after having just gone to the salon _that day _for a trim and touch up.

She'd actually found a black hair salon rather easily for such a small town, which was yet another reason why it had been so easy for her to stay.

Sure, Burlington wasn't exactly the most diverse city in America – neither was the state of Vermont – but the state's progressive live-and-let-live attitude meant she and Fitz rarely if ever got side-eyed by people when they were out together. She had been initially nervous what other people might say or do because it was the 21stcentury, sure, and there was a black man in the White House, yes, but racism was alive and well and as a woman who had never been in an interracial relationship before she had no idea what to expect. She'd been pleasantly surprised (and relieved) by the reception their relationship had received, both from friends and colleagues as well as from strangers who didn't seem to even think twice about their pairing.

So she'd been so happy lately and so hopeful and excited for the future that she'd definitely gotten carried away at the bar from all the goodwill and contentment flowing through her.

They had a great life. They had a great relationship. She was painfully, desperately in love with him. So much so she'd immediately abandoned her engagement-only move-in rule just because he had been sleepy eyed and scruffy with curls more unruly than usual and he had looked at her like she hung the moon and her heart felt so full that she wanted to cry she ached from loving him so much.

So he'd asked and she'd said yes, not stopping to think of what that really all meant, like when she got sick and was puking and digestively compromised, she wouldn't be able to hide it from him. The gig would be up. They would have to take the good with the bad, which is something that she realized she had not mentally prepared for. Because boy, was this bad.

Gesturing to her exhausted body lay prone along the bathroom floor beside his, she scowled, "There is _nothing_ sexy about this right now."

"You're always sexy, Livvie," he said blithely, as if he was telling her that the sky was always blue.

If she wasn't so nauseated she thought she'd die, she'd have swooned from the sincerity of his words and the softness in his gaze as he looked at her.

"I love you so much," she sobbed as another wave hit her and she barely got the lid of the toilet up before she was puking all over again.

She spent the next hour vomiting until she literally had nothing left, until she was dry heaving air and bile and felt so weak and sick she curled up into a ball on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, the spins finally passing enough for her to make use of the pillow Fitz had brought her earlier. Her stomach continued to spasm, cramping in waves that made her flush with heat and agony.

He sat with her throughout, stroking her back; massaging her legs; pressing soft reassuring kisses to her shoulder. And when she was finally done, he unbuttoned her blouse and removed her jeans and she distressed that he was undressing her under such horrifically un-sexy circumstances.

He helped her take two aspirin as a preventative measure for how terrible her headache would be in the morning and her last memory before passing out completely right there on the cold bathroom floor was of her gorgeous sexy boyfriend's big hands soothing and massaging her bare feet and legs.

When she awoke, it was morning and she was in bed, still clad in her black lace bra, camisole and thong from the night before, breeze filtering through the French doors that led out to the back patio, and she whined as she cracked her eyes open and was immediately assaulted by vibrant yellow sunlight.

"How're you feeling?"

Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned in the direction of Fitz's voice and wished she had good news to report.

"Like a dirty used gym sock," she croaked, her throat itchy and stinging from all of the stomach acid she'd recently regurgitated. The bed shifted slightly with his weight and suddenly she felt a cool glass being placed in her hand.

Her fingers curled around it greedily.

"Drink up," he murmured, his hand brushing hair from her cheek, and she sighed, leaning into his palm as she blindly brought the glass to her lips and gulped the water voraciously, relishing the feel of the ice cold liquid coating her aching esophagus.

"Want me to close the curtains?" He asked in response to how tightly she was squeezing her eyes shut.

"Yessss," she whined, sighing gratefully when seconds later the room was plunged into soothing shades cool enough for her to finally open her eyes and focus them blearily on his hooded and ringed with lack of sleep. His jawline was dark and scruffy with new growth, his curls long and wild about his head, chest hair peeking out from the collar of his Harvard t-shirt pulled tight and taut over broad shoulders and rippling biceps. He looked so sexy and delicious her mouth watered despite her disposition and she wished she had the energy and wherewithal to slither into his lap and have her way with him.

Instead she despaired over the fact that she felt like a truck had hit her.

"I'm sorry," she said as she finished the last of her water and handed the glass back to him.

He smiled, his eyes so full of love as he stared at her she couldn't help gaping back. "Why are you apologizing?"

"For you having to take care of me last night."

"Of course I took care of you. Why wouldn't I take care of you?" He was looking at her like she had five heads.

"I was a sloppy drunk. I'm never that bad-"

"I know. You were just having fun. I love seeing you that happy." He rushed on when she winced. "Not that _drunk_, but that _happy_."

Her frown deepened. "I'm so embarrassed. I was so disgusting last night."

"You were _sick_, Livvie."

"Because I drank too much! And you had to take care of me like I was a child!" She was whining and she knew it.

"No, I took care of you because you're the love of my life and you were sick and needed me."

Tears unexpectedly sprang to her eyes at his words and she wished she could kiss him but the taste in her mouth indicated that her breath at that moment would not be ideal. "There you go saying perfect things, being all perfect man-y again."

"Don't ever apologize for me taking care of you. That's my job. That's what I do, what I'm going to do every day for the rest of our lives. Whether you're hurling because you drank too much or you have the flu or food poisoning or morning sickness, I will always hold your hair and massage your feet when you puke."

Her perfect, precious man. She smiled and marveled over how lucky she was to be loved so well by someone as wonderful as him. "I adore you."

"Good."

"I want to shower. Brush my teeth. Scrape off all of the vomit."

He laughed. "That's a good idea."

Ever the gentleman, he helped her out of bed and walked her to the bathroom, running the shower for her while she propped herself against the sink and squeezed out a giant glob of toothpaste onto her toothbrush.

"You need help?" he asked her as he watched her sway unsteadily on her feet, leaning into the counter to right herself.

She probably did but after last night's debacle she was determined to not be a complete invalid around him so she shook her head and said, "No, I got it. Thank you though."

He eyed her skeptically but knew better than to challenge her. She'd taught him well. "Okay... I'm gonna go make some breakfast. What do you want?"

The thought of food made her stomach roil but she knew she was weak and dehydrated and needed to eat. "Something greasy." Greasy food was the hangover cure. "With lots of cheese and bacon."

He chuckled as he walked out of the bathroom. "Coming right up. Holler if you need anything."

She was determined to bathe herself but as soon as she stepped under the spray, her legs turned to mush and she had to prop herself against the wall to stay upright. The steam felt good, so good, so wonderful, and she dipped her head under the mist to wet her hair (it was already ruined so no need for shower cap) and let the warm water cascade over her face, cathartically refreshing her skin. But she didn't have the energy to lift her loofah and scrub her body clean the way she desperately needed to after the night she'd had. She didn't have the energy to stay vertical and had to rely on the wall's sturdy presence to keep her on her feet.

She debated staying there just like that and waiting until Fitz came back but had no idea how long that would be. Eventually she just cursed and slid open the glass door to call out to him. "Fiiiiitz," her throat ached and she could barely speak above a whisper, clearing the gruffness before trying again.

Thankfully he materialized seemingly in seconds with a knowing grin on his face.

"Need help?"

She pouted pitifully and decided to admit defeat. He'd been taking care of her so well thus far; she might as well give up the ghost and let him. "Yes."

He chuckled and she was grateful for the shower wall as she watched him undress and drooled over how perfect his body was, so toned and sinewy, she couldn't help licking her lips as he slipped into the stall with her.

His eyes darkened as he too appreciated _her_ naked form and they reached for one another simultaneously, Liv pressing her body into his, sighing as his arms tightened around her waist and she leaned all of her weight into the hug. She loved how safe he made her feel and she let him twirl her around until his back was to the spray as he leaned down to press a kiss to her damp hair.

"Better?"

She nodded wordlessly against his chest and they stood there wrapped around one another for a while before eventually Fitz helped wash her, foaming her loofah with soap and scrubbing it soothingly over every inch of her skin. The edges of her hangover faded away, replaced with flaming arousal as his hands slid over her breasts, her perky, plump flesh the perfect fit in his oversized palms, and soon they were kissing heatedly and his dick was hard and pulsing between their bodies and she thrilled that despite everything over the past 12 hours, his prick still could throb and ache with need for her. She fisted it in one hand and told him as much, eliciting a laugh from his lips in between their hungry kisses.

"Always hard around you, Livvie," he murmured.

He'd told her so before but her ego needed to be reminded. He suddenly dropped to his knees, pushing her up the slick shower wall to drape her legs over his shoulders, and she gasped as his face met her dripping center and he licked a stripe up her slit with his flattened tongue.

She _loved_ when he went down on her and gripped his hair as his tongue explored her slick folds, nibbling on her clit with his teeth, fucking her roughly with his fingers, slurping her essence into his mouth like he was drinking from the fountain of youth. She came long and loud and hard, her fingers fisting and twisting the silky wet strands of his hair as she rolled her hips into his face and cried his name, shaking and shuddering with ecstasy as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of her thigh and slurped the plump flesh there. He trailed his tongue along her skin, his hands dancing over her stomach as he licked his way up her body, hitched her legs around his waist and sank into her in one firm, forceful thrust.

He fucked her steadily with long, thorough strokes at the perfect angle to hit that spot deep inside of her that made her see stars. Her entire body went rigid, clenching tight and warm and wet around his thick shaft as he popped his hips up to hers and her sudden, catastrophic orgasm brutally stole his too, bringing him with her straight into the abyss. He twitched and jerked and emptied himself into her, his legs aching from exertion as he pushed her into the wall to keep them upright while her fluttering core milked him completely dry.

"Fuck," he hissed against her ear as she continued to ripple around him and she marveled over the fact that he was still hard, still pulsing within her. "Livvie. So good."

She moaned, nuzzling her nose into his neck as she ran her hands over his broad shoulders. "You are the _best_ hangover cure _everrrrr_."

When he pulled out of her still quivering center, she felt the void of his absence immediately and whimpered, tightening her legs around his waist as best she could while blindly reaching for his mouth with hers. They kissed, long and deep and lazy, tongues exploring, and he cupped and squeezed her ass in his hands as she finally slid her feet down to touch the floor. They reluctantly pulled apart long enough to rinse off before Fitz shut off the shower and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Wow."

"Wow," she breathed.

"Wow," he repeated.

They stared at one another in silence for a little while more before Liv smiled and said shyly, "Thank you for taking such good care of me, baby."

"You're welcome."

She leaned up on her toes to press her lips to his, whimpering when he growled, tilted his head to consume her, his tongue snaking into her mouth to touch and tease and taste. She clung to his shoulders as he took her under all over again, wrapping her arms around his neck to hang on, slurping his lips between hers as her body continued to tingle in post-orgasmic bliss.

They were healthy active adults who had a terrific sex life and Olivia loved how compatible they were together, eternally grateful all her years of practicing yoga and Pilates made her so flexible and balanced because it took a lot to keep up with a man as virile and sexually voracious as Fitz.

So she wanted them to be responsible. After she finalized the permanence of her move to Burlington and agreed to live with him, Fitz added her as a dependent to his healthcare plan at the firm and she spent several weeks shopping to find new doctors, in particular a new gynecologist who renewed her prescription for birth control.

She got all soft and gooey on the inside when she thought about having Fitz's babies – he would be the best dad _ever_ – but despite how perfect things were between them at the moment, she did not want _any_ accidents, surprises, or unplanned arrivals. Since they'd _never_ used condoms and had no intentions of starting now, that little round pill was the only thing that stood in between them and sudden parenthood.

Late one June night they were lying out on the back patio, Liv snuggled against Fitz's chest, and he was pressing kisses to her neck and shoulder as one hand fondled her breast and the other splayed wide over her flat abdomen.

"How many babies do you want?" He whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

She smiled, twirling the stem of her crystal wine glass in her hands as she imagined kids running around with his silky curls and big blue eyes, "Three."

"Me too," he squeezed her tightly as she linked her fingers through his on her stomach.

"What kind of ring do you want?"

Her grin was so wide now her cheeks hurt. Crickets chirped, lightning bugs sparked, mosquitos flitted through the summer air and she was so happy she could cry. "Well…"

He laughed as he lightly bit the skin of her throat between his teeth. "Come on – sky's the limit; money no object; ring of your dreams."

"Vintage, cushion cut, at _least_ three carats," she breathed in a rush and his laughter shook her body.

"You've given it a lot of thought."

"Any woman who says she hasn't is lying."

The thought of wearing a ring on her finger that Fitz gave her – a ring that was a sign of their love and a symbol that she belonged only to him – filled her with indescribable hope and happiness.

She was in no rush of course, and she knew he wasn't either, but that didn't stop her from daydreaming about it, from envisioning the way the ring looked on her finger to envisioning the expression on his face as he gave it to her.

July rolled around and it was Fitz's birthday month so Liv decided she wanted to throw him a big party. She knew he would be uneasy about that (and there was no way in hell she was interested in trying to surprise him) so she decided it would be best to combine it with a housewarming soiree and barbeque now that the place was finally coming together as _their_ house and she'd moved in all of the furniture she'd wanted, added some of her art work to the walls, painted a few of the rooms to her taste and taken a trek to the local Home Depot with Fitz to buy new lawn furniture.

(She had also bought him a new top of the line washer and dryer because the set he'd been using was archaic and grotesque – _men_ – and there was no way in hell she'd ever feel safe enough to trust it with her expensive, high quality wares.)

Liv decided to invite everyone they knew: Abby, Quinn, their boyfriends, Cyrus and _his_ boyfriend, Fitz's parents (even his dad), his aunts and uncles and cousins, some of his colleagues from the firm and some fellow coworkers from UVM. She put her years of event planning experience from her old job in DC as a corporate publicist (at her fathers' best friend's agency, of course) to good use and hired a local photographer, sending him a shot list of specific pictures she wanted to make sure he captured (since the party was doubling as a house-warming, she also wanted to make sure he took a plethora of shots of their newly redecorated home). She stopped short of creating an official run of show, knowing that was a pretentious move distinctly more DC than it was VT, but she drafted a rough outline of how she wanted the afternoon to go to help her plan it accordingly, and solicited Maddie's advice on which local catering company she should hire. And Cyrus, whom she'd actually grown rather close to, ordered a handful of kegs from Fitz's favorite local Burlington brewery.

She was excited and determined to make the party a success.

As she sat at their kitchen table late one July afternoon surfing the latest Gilt sale on her laptop (she was trying to talk herself out of purchasing a $1200 Balenciaga handbag just because it was marked down from $1800), her phone sounded with the chime she had assigned specifically to Fitz and she grinned as she read the flirty message.

_On my way. Miss you. Naked playtime when I get home?_

She rolled her eyes even as her skin flushed with arousal, the promise of a night spent in bed with her beau music to her ears.

_Here waiting_, she texted him back.

Gilt sale immediately forgotten, she sauntered over to the wine fridge to grab a bottle of Champagne, placing it in a bucket with ice beside two crystal flutes. After, she went to their room to change into a tight lace nightie that essentially made Fitz cum in his pants every time she wore it.

He hadn't proposed, not officially, and she wasn't wearing a diamond ring yet, but she already felt like his wife, already felt like the most important person in his entire life, and he was by far the most important person in hers so she virtually danced around the kitchen as she prepared them a platter of grapes and cheese and charcuterie to go with the Champagne.

Her heart skipped when she heard him pull into the driveway and she greeted him with a huge grin as he walked through the door. His eyes darkened as they moved over her lace clad frame and he dropped his briefcase where he stood as they closed the distance between them and she hopped up to wrap her legs around his waist and give him a proper kiss hello.

"Welcome home, baby," she murmured as she raked her fingers through his hair and peered down into his face.

"Hi," he said gruffly, his hand palming her ass as he walked them forward to deposit her on the counter beside the champagne and cheese tray. She saw the discontent in his eyes and stroked his chin lightly, soothingly.

"You okay?"

His face softened as he took in her features. "I am now."

She gestured to the food and wine. "Snacks."

His eyes flickered. "Good. Gonna work up an appetite."

He made love to her right there on the kitchen floor, slow and soft until the sweetness of it made her heart ache and toes curl, and afterwards they padded out to the back patio – butt naked – with the champagne and cheese tray to drink and snuggle on the chaise lounge she'd spent way too much money on but couldn't resist.

"Thank God for trees," Liv joked as she gestured to the thick woods surrounding the backyard that fortunately provided the utmost privacy for their naked escapades. Strategically placed citronellas and bug zappers so far seemed to be keeping the insects away, so Liv leaned back, carefree, against Fitz's chest and pressed a kiss to the underside of his chin.

"Yeah," Fitz chuckled, pouring her a tall glass of champagne and raising his in a toast. "To you, Livvie."

Her heart clenched in her chest as she gazed at him with what she was certain was a matching adoring expression. "Aww. _Me_?"

"Yes, you." He said seriously. "For your beauty and your grace and your _love_ and for being the best thing in my whole world."

She felt tears prick the back of her eyes and leaned up to kiss him before clinking her glass with his. "I'll drink to that!" She laughed so she didn't cry and he smiled, kissing the corner of her lips as he reached for the grapes and popped one into her mouth.

"What do you want for your birthday?" Liv asked as she chewed.

"You," he said without hesitation.

Liv rolled her eyes even as her heart warmed. "I'm a given, baby. I meant _besides_ me."

He shrugged. "I just want you."

She wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. "How do you want to spend the day?"

"Naked. In bed. With you."

She grinned at that. "Okay. Deal." They sealed it with a kiss. "I'm still going to get you a gift though."

"Your love is gift enough."

She rolled her eyes again. "Laying it on thick."

"It's the truth. I have everything I could ever need."

"That's not the point of birthday presents, Fitz." She sighed as she picked up a chunk of sharp cheddar and popped it into her mouth.

"I know. I just mean – look, Livvie, I don't care about gifts. Whatever you get me, whether it's a Starbucks gift card or a blow job, I'll be happy with it."

She laughed heartily at that. "You just had to throw in the blow job bit, didn't you?" She nuzzled his scruff-covered jaw, inhaled his scent and sighed happily.

His eyes twinkled mischievously as they looked at one another and she felt him stir behind her. "Well you're just so good..."

She smirked. "I know." She literally could bring Fitz to his knees he loved her oral game so much and it made her feel strong and powerful that she had that kind of control over him.

"That thing you do with your tongue."

She flushed at the thought. "I know," she repeated.

He laughed and they snuggled in comfortable silence, drinking, nibbling on the grapes and cheese and feeding each other small pieces of pepperoni and salami. Finally Liv said, "So I'm thinking… of throwing you a party."

At the frown that began to form on his face, she rushed on, "Us a party. _Us_ a party."

His eyes narrowed. "Me or us?"

She shrugged. "Well – both. It'd be kind of a birthday party for you slash housewarming for us."

"Oh." He thought about it for a few moments and she watched his face intently. She'd probably throw the party anyway, even if he didn't want her to, unless he was really _truly_ opposed to it. But then he said, "Okay," and leaned in to kiss her until she was breathless.

"Just okay?"

"Yeah. I like the idea of having all of our friends over to see the place now that you've finally settled in. If you want to get some balloons and a cake and sing happy birthday to me too, I'll suck it up."

"Oh, well don't sound so excited about it."

"I _am_ excited about it." He kissed her again to show her just how much. "I just want to make sure it doesn't conflict with our naked day in bed."

"I promise I will prioritize our naked playtime over our housewarming party. They'll be on separate days."

"Separate _weekends_," Fitz corrected.

"Oh now you want an entire naked _weekend_?" Liv laughed. She looked forward to a lifetime of playful banter just like this.

He shrugged. "Why not? Friday night through Monday morning, just you, me, no clothes, our _own_ little housewarming party."

"We've pretty much christened every surface of the house already, babe."

"Yeah, and we need to make a habit of it."

She laughed, leaning up to cup his face in her hands and press her lips to his. "I'm glad you're okay with the party because I've kind of already started planning it…"

"Of course you have," he said matter-of-factly without a hint of anger or annoyance.

"Your mom recommended a great caterer and I hired this photographer I know, sent him a shot list-"

"A what?"

"A shot li-" Liv smiled at his brow furrowed in confusion. "You know, a list of specific pictures you want the photographer to take."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

And then he chuckled. "Only you, Livvie, would hire a photographer and draft a shot list for a backyard barbeque."

She flushed with just the slightest bit of embarrassment and overcompensated by haughtily sticking her nose in the air. "This is just part of my process."

He grinned, rolled his eyes and leaned in to kiss her, slurping her lower lip between his to nibble on the plump flesh before releasing it from his mouth with a loud pop.

"I throw a great fucking party," she finished breathlessly when she could finally process words again.

"Oh, I don't doubt it." He turned serious, tracing the line of her jaw. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." They kissed again, deep and slow, and she snuggled further into his chest after they came up for air.

Back to companionable silence as they made their way through the champagne bottle and finished the rest of the snacks. He wrapped the blanket he'd brought outside around them and she leaned back with a long, content sigh as they watched the sun dip below the Adirondack Mountains to the west.

"I want to invite your Dad," she said, finally breaking the silence. "Is that okay?" She felt him stiffen against her back and slid her hand into his, lacing their fingers together soothingly.

"Why?" he asked, voice strained.

She tilted her head back so their eyes could meet. "Because its your birthday. And he's your father. And it's the right thing to do. Even if he says no."

"He's definitely going to say no."

"If I even ask him." She studied his face and frowned at the way he was avoiding eye contact, a far-off look in his gaze as he studied the big oak tree at the back of the yard. "I won't if you don't want me to."

He was her priority and his feelings mattered more than anyone else's.

"No, it's okay," he said finally, his jaw clenched so tightly she leaned up to press a kiss there, humming in her throat as she nuzzled his chin and trailed kisses along his jawline, loving the sting of his whiskers on her plump lips.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." His tone was harsh but when he shifted to look into her face, his gaze softened. "Thank you, Livvie." He cupped her cheek in his hand and she leaned into his embrace.

She wasn't sure what he was thanking her for but she smiled anyway. "You're welcome."

She thought about just calling Big Jerry and extending the invitation that way, but decided it would be best to invite him in person. She didn't want to interfere, but Fitz's discord with his father was unsettling to her. She felt like (okay, _hoped_) the two of them could actually be close and have a great relationship if they just got out of their own way.

Fitz didn't believe it, and she didn't blame him, but she sensed something in the way that Big Jerry regarded his son that night she had met him – an unconscious sense of pride coupled with… envy? She wasn't sure quite what but she knew she felt some sort of responsibility – however inappropriate and unnecessary – to try to bring father and son together – or at least help foster a sense of true _understanding_ between them.

So she'd told Fitz on Monday morning that she'd be taking him out to lunch and arrived fifteen minutes early to sneak into his father's office to speak with him quickly.

"Hi, Ms. Pope!" Big Jerry's assistant Alyssa greeted her as she slipped through the double glass doors to the anteroom outside the founding partner's mammoth office.

"Hi Alyssa. I know this is last minute, but any chance he's free for a quick chat?"

"Olivia!"

She turned in the direction of Big Jerry's voice, watching the strikingly tall (one of few men in the world who could make Fitz look short) elder Grant alight from his office to greet her with a genuinely wide grin on his face.

"Hi, Mr. Grant! Have a moment?"

He winked at her and waved off Alyssa. "I always have a moment for someone as beautiful as you, darling." He held open the doors to his suite and gestured her inside.

Floor to ceiling windows yielded a breathtaking view of the harbor and Lake Champlain, New York's Adirondack Mountains rippling out as far as the eye could see. The office was stately, warm, traditionally modern, the far wall covered in bookshelves with rows of leather-bound law journals; a long, low cabinet beside the window home to an antique cocktail set and a ton of photographs, award statues, and random-looking tchotchkes holding pride of place on the mahogany wood furniture. Two oversized dark crimson leather armchairs sat tilted toward one another at a 45-degree angle in front of a huge mahogany desk that stood at the very center of the room.

It was the office of a man who had good taste and a lot of money and Liv was impressed.

Perhaps only because she had an eye for his face, Olivia immediately spotted the photo of Fitz and his father at what appeared to be his law school graduation and made a bee line for the large frame, picking it up to inspect the picture of the two Grant men beaming at the camera, their arms wrapped around each other.

They looked happy. One would never know their history of discord if they looked at this particular snapshot and she felt surprisingly emotional to see it in Big Jerry's office.

"That was the day he graduated from law school," Jerry said, pride tingeing his voice as she turned on her heel with the photo in her hand to look at him.

"You must have been so proud of him," Liv said passive aggressively. "Third generation Grant man to graduate from Harvard Law. That's a big deal." If she and Fitz ever had a son that cared to follow in those footsteps, Harvard was certainly a great legacy to have and be connected to.

Jerry smiled. "It _is_ a big deal. Too bad he's stalling now on that partnership."

Inwardly, Liv cringed. It had been quite some time since Fitz's father had offered him the senior partnership and he _was_ still dragging his feet accepting, but that was an issue that really could only be settled between the two of them, not her.

She decided to cut right to the chase. "Well we're throwing a little bit of a housewarming… slash birthday party for Fitz at our place one week from Saturday. It would mean the world to the both of us if you would attend."

Jerry frowned and appeared to be placing the date in his mind. "What's that day? The 19th?"

Liv nodded. "Yup."

"Well I will certainly check my schedule and, uh – I'll let you know darling. Be sure to email Alyssa the details. I would love to be there."

She knew that was the best she would get from the man now and forced a smile on her face as she walked over to press a kiss to his cheek. "Please do. We would love to have you. Truly."

When the 19th rolled around and their home and backyard were filled with friends and family, there was no sign of Fitzgerald Grant II and Liv couldn't help her overwhelming sense of disappointment.

She felt like _she_ had let Fitz down, even though he had never expected the old man to come in the first place and had told her more than once after her meeting with him that it would never happen. "He doesn't even _call_ me on my birthday, so he's never going to come over and _celebrate_ it with me," Fitz had said with certainty.

She had hoped he was wrong but of course he knew his own father better than she did.

Despite the absence, the soiree was a swinging success anyway.

Fitz's little cousins squealed in delight and ran around in the back of the yard, playing in the sprinklers and Slip-n-Slide she'd set up for them earlier.

His mom and her sisters giggled at the patio table as they enjoyed wine and told funny stories about Fitz as a child.

Abby and Quinn were the two best assistants ever, helping Liv in her hosting duties as she tried to clean up after guests and refresh snacks, napkins and utensils as the day went on.

Fitz, Cyrus and his boyfriend James were deep in discussion about… _something_… as they drank beers at the edge of the patio. He looked relaxed and handsome in his shirt (damn but her baby could wear the hell out of a simple cotton tee) and khaki shorts and she found herself staring at him across the yard, letting the sight of him so happy and carefree relax her frayed hostess nerves.

Music blared from the iPod speaker system they'd set up outside and she watched the photographer she'd hired travel around the yard capturing the scene just as she'd requested. She surveyed the party from her position in the kitchen doorway and let herself feel accomplished and proud of her all hard work putting the day together.

The atmosphere was perfect, the weather was perfect, and virtually everyone who truly mattered to and supported them was in attendance.

And then she saw a tall shadow out of the corner of her eye and turned in time to watch in shock as Fitz's father walked around the side of the house and down the paved path to approach his son at the edge of the patio.

"Happy Birthday, son," she saw him say as he embraced Fitz – rather awkwardly – and Liv tried not to actually _run_ over to her boyfriend's side and instead approached as casually as possible.

"You made it!" She said, perhaps with too much excitement, reaching to pull the elder Grant into a hug.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Big Jerry beamed down at her and Fitz scoffed so loudly she nudged him with her elbow.

"We're so happy to have you!" Liv gushed, tilting her head to look up into her boyfriend's face, knowing she looked smug based on the side eye he gave her. "Aren't we, Fitz?"

He smirked at her as he nodded and looked back at his dad. "Yeah." His voice was surprisingly gruff and he cleared his throat before continuing, "It's great to see you, Dad."

"Can I get you a drink, Big Jerry?" Liv asked, eyeing Cyrus and James perhaps not as subtly as she would like and intimating they should come with her, leaving Fitz alone with his dad to chat.

"Yes, darling. A cold beer would do."

Olivia sauntered off with Cyrus and James in her wake to leave the Grant men alone and decided to stall getting Big Jerry that beer so father and son could speak uninterrupted. She tried to stay busy as she puttered around the yard and pretended that she wasn't looking over at them every five seconds to make sure one hadn't strangled the other.

Posture was stiff and awkward on both their parts. They weren't facing one another, instead both facing the yard as they appeared to make short, clipped conversation. A fluent expert in her boyfriend's body language by this point, Liv could tell by the set of Fitz's jaw alone that he was uncomfortable.

But they were talking, not arguing, which was definitely progress that made her hopeful she could help them find mutual ground and understanding with one another.

Later that night, after everyone had gone and the party had been cleaned up, she was in their bathroom getting ready for bed, hair wrapped, face scrubbed of makeup as she leaned over the sink to apply eye cream when she caught his reflection in the mirror behind her.

He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame looking tall and dangerously sexy as he smiled at her, bent over in one of her favorite cotton nighties that had ridden up in her prone position, giving him the perfect unobstructed view of her bare ass.

"See something you like?" she flirted as he pinned her with his hooded gaze.

He moaned, slinking into the room to wrap his arms around her from behind and pull her against his chest for a tight hug. She melted into his embrace, bending her elbows to grab his arms and hold him against her. When his hands slid over her breasts, she moaned, tilting her pelvis back and whimpering at the feel of him hard and aching behind her.

"Thank you for the party," he murmured as he placed a kiss into her neck and the warmth vibrated through the rest of her body. She stared at their reflection in the mirror, how good they looked together, how perfectly they fit in one another's arms, and turned in the circle of his embrace to peer up at him.

"I love you," she whispered, smiling at the way his eyes flickered at her words. She traced her fingers along his jaw and said with a voice deep and full of emotion, "I was just trying to show you how much."

She wasn't talking about the party anymore and he knew her well enough to know that. Their natural connection was so innate and effortless, they often communicated almost telepathically without words.

His hands slid palm down over the sides of her breasts across her torso to hang low on her hips, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake as she tingled from the passionate possessiveness of that touch. Then he was lifting her head up with his thumb under her chin, hovering over her mouth for a few suspended moments that made her hum and moan and lean into him, hands clutching his shoulders as her eyes slid shut just as he slurped her lower lip through his. She whimpered in her throat as she opened her mouth and he tilted his head so she could readily accept his tongue, suckling it so hard he growled, pushing her into the counter as they consumed one another.

They kissed like that for minutes, maybe hours, possibly days, breaking apart for a few seconds to gulp for air before diving back in to feast on one another all over again. Finally he pulled back enough to rest his forehead on hers and murmured, "I accepted the partnership."

She grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Yeah?"

"And I negotiated two full days a week to teach."

She was so happy and excited in that moment, she wanted to cry. Everything was falling into place for him, and for them. She would never take full credit for whatever part she might have played in that outcome, she was just happy that she'd followed her instinct to invite Big Jerry to the party. It appeared to have paid off.

"See?" She asked as she peered into blue eyes swirling with hope and happiness. "Win-win."

Fitz shrugged a shoulder as he tightened a hand on her hip, his thumb tracing circles on her pelvis that made her stomach clench with heat and arousal. "You were right."

She laughed. "God, that's so good to hear."

He laughed too, and kissed her soundly. "It's not forever. It's just... for now."

"I know," she said matter-of-factly. "It's a means to an end."

"I love you so fucking much," he said as he gazed at her with such reverence in his expression her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "You've brought out the best of _everything_ in my life."

She did cry now, because she was tired and emotionally exhausted and so happy she felt numb with it.

He brushed her tears away as they kissed again, and when he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to bed, she thought the world had never been more perfect than it was in that moment.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Leave a review if you're feeling up to it **


	10. The One Where Fitz Can't Wait Any Longer

**The One Where Fitz Can't Wait Any Longer**

Fitz began the engagement ring hunt in the fall.

September was an exhausting month. He was living the consequences of his choice to accept his senior partnership while juggling teaching at UVM and Liv was handling the PR for two major charity events with the Burlington Boys and Girls Club; which meant a lot of long hours and cranky nights for them both.

There was one particularly painful week where they'd barely even seen one another due to his hectic schedule at the firm (his negotiation for two days to teach meant he'd go into the office after class at _least_ one of those days to put in enough billable hours) which overlapped with _her_ busy schedule with the BGC, including a dinner gala benefiting their mentoring program that she'd been frantically working on for a month. He had been looking forward to supporting her and being her date but had to back out due to a client crisis.

All week, they'd essentially only communicated via phone, email, texts and late night/early morning sleepy kisses in bed before parting all over again.

The night of the gala he'd had to stay late to supervise some of the junior partners as they worked overtime to close a deal. Liv texted him a picture of her in her gown – a slinky white number that hugged her curves like a second skin – and his cock hardened the second he'd opened the image, immediately saving the shot to his camera roll as he cursed and lamented he couldn't be there with her. Especially when she looked so good.

_HOTTTT, _he texted her in response_. You're so beautiful, baby. That dress… My dick's hard now and needs to be inside you_. Grateful for the privacy the conference room table provided, he slipped his hand into his pocket to grab his suddenly throbbing cock through his pants.

Fifteen minutes passed before her response, which only made his dick pulse more. A string of emoticons (typical Livvie), silly yellow faces with heart-shaped eyes blushing and blowing kisses followed by, _And now I'm heading to this thing soaking wet. Without you. _

He literally had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from groaning. _I know._ _Good luck tonight. I miss you. I love you. And_ _I'm gonna fuck your brains out when I get home._

_Thank you baby – and not if I fuck yours out first._ _XOXOXOXO Love you_

He laughed. She was the most perfect precious woman in all of creation because she didn't guilt him or hold his absence against him. She understood completely and had reassured him there would be other events but he just missed her so much he felt cranky and achy with it.

It was nearly midnight by the time he was finally able to drag himself away from the office and head home. He suspected that since Liv had an early morning post-gala follow-up meeting she would already be in bed and the darkened windows as he pulled up confirmed his suspicions. He tried to tamper down his irritation about it being the fourth night in a row he'd gotten home after she'd been asleep, but he felt uneasy and uneven when he couldn't speak to her before going to bed, especially when he hadn't _seen_ her in the light of day _in_ days. (He was an addict whose only drug of choice was Olivia Pope and the only cure for his affliction was more Olivia Pope).

She was in bed sprawled across his pillow with her hair wrapped in her beloved red silk scarf, sheets tucked under her arm as the strap of her nightie hung low off one shoulder.

The sight of her made his chest ache.

After all this time, it never got old for him – coming home to her; knowing she was his; knowing she loved him as feverishly as he loved her.

Boneless with exhaustion, he stripped off his clothes and slipped beneath the covers to spoon Liv and pull her back against his chest.

She murmured something unintelligible in her sleep as he nuzzled his nose in her neck and pressed a warm, steady kiss to her pulse point. He didn't care about sleeping, content to just to hold her while she was, but she apparently sensed the warm body behind her and stirred with a confused yawn. "Fitz?"

"Expecting someone else?" he joked as he kissed her ear.

"Hiiii," she said sweetly, turning in the circle of his arms to blink blearily at him. They stared at one another in the dim moonlight and she smiled. "I've missed that face."

"Ditto."

"I'm gonna go back to sleep now." She smiled as she scratched lightly at his chin. "Fuck each other's brains out tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, leaning in to cup her cheek and kiss her plump lips once, twice, three times, until she was humming against his mouth and opening hers to accept his tongue. They kissed languidly, hands lazily exploring one another's bodies, limbs, shoulders, neck, and face, before Liv pulled back with a sigh, turning around to press her back into his chest.

"Night baby," she breathed, and he smiled as he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.

"Night."

He lay awake with her in his arms for some time because even when she was asleep and unaware, he was getting his Livvie fill.

He sometimes couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found her; to have (finally) convinced her to go out with him; to have somehow been a good enough man to make her fall in love with him after he had fallen for her the second they had met.

As his eyes began to droop, he listened to her snoring ever so slightly, murmuring something weird and random and unintelligible under her breath and, squeezing her tighter in the circle of his arms, dipped his nose into her neck to breathe her in. She always smelled so good he could get drunk on her scent. She was his whole entire world and he burned with the magnitude of his love for her.

When he finally drifted off, his last conscious thought before slipping into slumber was _it's time to find her ring_.

In the morning, after they fulfilled their mutual promise of fucking one another's brains out – first in bed and then the shower – and after Liv had run off to her meeting (with a long, steamy kiss as she headed out the door), he sat at the kitchen table with his laptop and coffee to do a little preliminary research on engagement rings.

He wasn't quite sure when or how he would propose but he knew he couldn't without the ring (his Livvie was quite traditional that way) and he had to make sure it was perfect. He'd asked her if she wanted to pick it out herself and she rather vehemently insisted that she did not because she wanted to be surprised. She of course _did_ (thankfully) provide very strict parameters that left very little room for error.

Fortunately, he was also an observant man who paid very close attention to her exquisite – and expensive – taste and personal style. She was always impeccably put together, rarely a hair out of place, nails always done, legs and . . . other bits always waxed, and her wardrobe was vast. All expensive, a mix of modern and vintage, designers he'd heard of (Armani, Prada, and Ralph Lauren) but many he hadn't, a collection so immense she'd essentially relegated all of his clothing to a guest bedroom as she commandeered the quite large walk-in closet in theirs. (In her words the day she'd formally moved in, "the best thing about this entire house!")

Her taste in jewelry tended to lean toward dainty, delicate, and classic pieces with a lot of vintage and antique items she'd collected either as family heirlooms or on various traveling and shopping expeditions. In fact, her jewelry preferences seemed so specific and nostalgic, he'd had yet to buy her any for fear he'd completely miss the mark on what she'd like. And now the very first piece of jewelry he was going to buy her was her engagement ring, the one piece of jewelry she would wear for the rest of her life.

Shopping for an engagement ring was daunting in and of itself (oh, the importance of the 4 c's!), even more so for a woman like Liv, who seemed to be allergic to anything that wasn't expensive. ("In some ways, I really am my mother's daughter," she liked to say.) Quite simply, she wanted the best of the best. She had an impeccable eye for quality and design and the more research Fitz did, the more obsessive he became about finding a ring worthy of her taste.

She'd said vintage, so anything new or modern was out. She'd said not a _new_ ring that _looked_ vintage but one that actually _was_ vintage. She'd said cushion cut – and later quantified that by specifying cushion cut _without_ the overly common halo of diamonds around the center stone.

"A clever design feature that tricks the eye into thinking the solitaire is larger than it really is," she'd sniffed. "It's cheating."

So Fitz knew – _definitely_ no halo.

And at _least_ three carats, well… Fitz was just glad that he made a lot of money and had a great cushion in his savings account because only the best for his baby.

He caught himself staring at her one night as she puttered around the kitchen making them dinner, her beauty so breathtaking he couldn't help openly gawking at her.

She was wearing one of his shirts, which was so oversized on her tiny frame it hung dangerously low off one shoulder with the center of her very delectable left breast in constant danger of exposure. The sleeves were rolled up exposing her wrists and the delicate strands of diamond bracelets stacked along her right one.

To get a feel for the design of her ring, he'd studied those particular bracelets quite a bit when she hadn't been looking. They were very antique in appearance, with a lot of etchings that he'd discovered were Edwardian in style when he did a little googling. And when he studied her jewelry collection as a whole, most of the more expensive jeweled pieces – the diamonds, sapphires and emeralds she liked to wear the most – were _all_ Edwardian in style.

He quickly picked up on the theme.

Following the line of her wrist up to her hands, he zeroed in on the bright red polish on her nails and the nakedness of her left ring finger. He imagined a large diamond ring sparkling there, Edwardian in design; the stone's weight twirling it inward toward her knuckle as its radiant beauty blinded him from across the room, and he felt his chest ache with a combination of possessiveness and longing as he realized just how badly he wanted to see a ring on that hand.

Feeling his shameless gaze on her, she called him out for staring, winking at him from across the room. She looked so beautiful in that particular moment he was drawn to her like a magnet, rising from his seat to reach for her, pulling her into the circle of his arms so he could kiss her lips and nuzzle her neck and whisper in her ear how much he loved her. When he tried to dip his hands beneath the hem of his shirt to seek out her damp center, she pushed him back reluctantly and, at the sight of his childlike pout, explained, "I got my period this afternoon and I feel like a fat, bloated cow. _That's_ why I'm wearing your shirt, _not_ because I thought it'd turn you on. No sex for you tonight mister."

Fitz frowned. Although it was a good thing that Liv wasn't pregnant (yet), he was admittedly bummed that they wouldn't be having any sex for the next few days. In the past, he'd told her that he didn't mind – they could even use a condom if she wanted (he wasn't _that_ much of a horn dog, not really, but she was gorgeous and sexy and he'd make love to her every second of every day if he could, no matter what) – but she said she felt too decidedly unsexy during that "time of the month" to _ever_ have sex, even with a condom.

But after dinner, he was lying on the couch grading papers when she slinked into the room, climbed over him and proceeded to give him one of the best blow jobs he'd ever had in his entire life.

He was certain their neighbors heard him crying out her name when he came. He was still shaking when she pulled away, licking her lips free of his essence and laughing at the stupid grin on his face as he lay there in complete post-orgasmic bliss, student papers forgotten in a heap on the floor.

Then she smacked a kiss to his lips and told him that she was going to bed.

His only coherent thought as he watched her walk away was, _damn I can't wait to marry that woman_.

A few weeks later, in anticipation of another late night at the firm, she brought sandwiches from their favorite deli so they could eat dinner together in his office, which had a stunning view of Lake Champlain. He sat next to her facing the window so they could enjoy watching the sun set behind the Adirondack Mountains while sneaking kisses and feeding each other food. He nuzzled her neck, fingertips trailing from the outside of her knee up her inner thigh, and let himself enjoy the reprieve her presence brought.

Liv's love and affection was the cure for any affliction that could ever possibly ail him.

They finished eating as the sun finally slipped behind the mountains, turning their focus to one another, and were in the middle of a particularly flavorful kiss when a knock sounded at the door followed by a loud, exaggerated throat clearing.

"Sorry to interrupt."

Fitz groaned at the sound of his father's voice, instantly feeling greedy and affronted when Liv scooted her chair back to rise and greet the man hulking in the doorway. He had a long night of paperwork ahead of him and wanted Olivia all to himself. He did _not_ appreciate the interruption, by Big Jerry no less.

But as he watched her engage with his father, she was as always gloriously quick-witted and funny and he felt an unbearable ache in his chest to propose because here she was, proving once again how perfectly she fit into his life. He had to shake the image free of his head before he rose to his feet and walked over to them.

"Sorry I've been monopolizing so much of his time, love," Big Jerry said as he stared at Liv adoringly. "It's been a busy month."

Fitz narrowed his eyes. If he didn't know any better, he'd think the old man was _flirting_ with her.

_Huh_.

_That's interesting._

Instead of pissing him off, he actually felt like laughing.

Perhaps his love for Olivia Pope was genetic.

Liv's grin was so brilliant Fitz gaped at her beauty. "Don't worry about it. Completely understand." She turned her eyes on his and the thrill that tore through him when their gazes locked was exhilarating. "Just don't work him _too_ hard. That's my job." She winked and he laughed, leaning down to kiss her, brushing his thumb over her apple cheek.

"Thank you for feeding me, Livvie. See you at home?"

Her eyes flickered at the word "home" and he couldn't resist kissing her again. He hated to see her go but the sooner she did, the sooner he could get back to work and then the sooner he could go home too.

After she left, Fitz found both he and his father staring after her almost wistfully. He marveled over the effect she had on the Grant men, like she was some kind of siren or enchantress who had come into their lives to be the one (amazing, gorgeous, perfect) common denominator to finally bring them together after thirty-three years of discord.

"She looks good on you, son," Jerry said finally.

He chose to ignore how great those words made him feel. He didn't want to dwell on the fact that his father's approval of Olivia – and the fact that the man even _noticed_ how happy she made him – meant the world to him.

If he focused on all of that now, he'd probably weep.

So he cleared his throat, puffed out his chest and nodded. "She's a keeper," he agreed, and because he couldn't help himself he told his father that he was ready to propose but needed to find her ring first. To his surprise, Big Jerry immediately suggested an antique and vintage jeweler in Boston who used to be a client of their firm's Beantown office.

"Liv's a classy lady who wears a lot of vintage jewelry, she's going to want something unique and old world," he said and Fitz's jaw dropped at how astutely his father had his girlfriend pegged. He supposed that he shouldn't be surprised because the man _was_ a world-class attorney who knew how to read people, and since his divorce from Maddie he'd had quite a few girlfriends with equally expensive taste. But it _was_ surprising because he and his father still didn't have the best relationship, even after Liv, the senior partnership and the fact that they _were_ trying to reach some sort of an understanding. They'd already been fighting less, which was huge, even though of course the old man had to sneak in as many digs about his son's teaching career as he possibly could.

Regardless of all of the discord, his father offering help to find Liv's ring meant pretty much everything to Fitz.

Liv's twenty-sixth birthday in early October closely coincided with their first anniversary. His father's antique jeweler suggestion at the forefront of his mind, Fitz suggested a weekend trip to Boston where he booked them a suite at the Mandarin Oriental and treated the birthday girl to a very lavish day of pampering at the hotel's award-winning spa.

Meanwhile, he spent the day ring shopping.

It was an arduous, daunting task but he'd had his assistant Lauren do a little preliminary research for him on a few different city jewelers, everyone from Tiffany and Cartier to older family-owned businesses, to help him narrow down the search and give himself a feel for the entire process. None of those locations were quite right, though, so following lunch on a bench on the Common where he'd taken a few business calls (the work of a senior partner really never stopped, he had discovered quickly after accepting the position), he finally went to the jeweler that his father had recommended.

As soon as he walked through the store's glass doors, he knew it was the place where he would find Liv's ring.

They had a huge selection of antique jewelry, including two huge cases just of vintage engagement rings from various decades that at first glance Fitz thought all looked exactly the same. But after he described Liv's very specific stipulations to the saleswoman behind the counter, his concerns were immediately mollified when she produced several options to help him narrow down his search dramatically.

He closely inspected and examined half a dozen rings before he found the right match – the perfect size and shape diamond in the perfect Edwardian-style setting. As soon as he saw the ring, rolled it between his fingers, and held it up to the light, he _knew_ that she would love it.

Inherently.

Instinctually.

He could feel it in his bones; in his _soul_.

This was the one.

In his mind's eye, he could actually _see_ this ring on her finger and the rabid joy on her face as he gave it to her.

The image was so visceral Fitz didn't hesitate pulling out his wallet, quickly placing an order to have the ring sized. He didn't even batting an eyelash at the high five-figure price tag because he was so happy and excited he literally bounced on his feet with joy.

The ring wouldn't be ready to ship until early December (to his office because Liv _always_ opened packages delivered to the house and he couldn't risk her seeing it), so Fitz now knew that he wouldn't be proposing until the holidays, and while he feared he couldn't wait that long, he was just so relieved to have found a ring he was confident Olivia would love to wear for the rest of her life.

When he was all finished, receipt in hand and pamphlets on appraisals and insurance tucked in his jacket pocket, he was in such a good mood he felt like skipping back to their hotel. When he stepped off the elevator and entered the spa waiting room to meet her, she had a wide, blissed-out grin on her face and greeted him with a loud smacking kiss. She apparently felt so refreshed and renewed and grateful to him for the fantastic day that she'd had that she pushed him up against the door as soon as they returned to their room and dropped to her knees to take him into her mouth.

As he eagerly thrust his hips to get more of her tongue, he promised her he hadn't treated her to a spa day for sexual favors as awesome as this. She giggled as she slurped his length like a lollipop, her throat muscles constricting around his cock when she murmured "Happy Anniversary, baby," and he came violently, whining her name as she hungrily swallowed every single drop. She suckled the length of his twitching, weeping flesh one last time as she rose to her feet, laughing openly at what he knew was an obvious fuckstruck expression on his face as he leaned his weight into the door. His lids were heavy, vision unfocused when she alighted to her tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips so he could taste himself on that wicked tongue of hers.

"Thank you for my spa day," she whispered against his mouth, and he wrapped his arms around her waist to hold himself steady because he was certain his legs would betray him.

"Me – ah – no. Um . . . you too," he stuttered as he pressed his forehead to hers and she laughed heartily at him and the only thought on his mind as he recovered with her in his arms was _I can't wait to marry you_.

They celebrated the actual anniversary of their first date with another one up at their clearing, where they drank good wine and made love as the sun set to the west, and decided to spend Thanksgiving at his mother's house again because things with Liv's parents were still rather uncertain.

Fitz briefly wondered if he should do the traditional thing and ask for permission – or at least inform them he intended to propose. But Liv's relationship with them was so contentious at the moment and they weren't big fans of his; not to mention the fact that she was such a modern woman she'd probably cut his dick off if he did it. He hated the idea of them taking such a monumental step in their relationship without her parents approval (or even their knowledge), but Olivia truly seemed to be at peace with the state of her relationship with them and if she didn't want to dwell on the discord, he didn't want to either.

He awoke alone in bed on Thanksgiving morning, Liv already in the kitchen making her Nana's beloved mac and cheese (according to her, a soul food tradition she'd be damned to give up just because she, in her words, "was living with a white dude in Vermont") and he groggily padded into the room to kiss her hello. She was busy chopping cheese on their massive wooden cutting board and he couldn't resist popping a chunk into his mouth. They shared another more thorough good morning kiss before he washed his hands and helped her cook.

The domesticity of it all wasn't lost on Fitz, as it was yet another instance where he had to actively fight the urge to get down on his knee and propose, engagement ring be damned.

The mac and cheese was a huge hit, of course, with Maddie begging for Liv to come over sometime soon to teach her how to make it, and Fitz marveled over how much had changed in a year.

He and his mom took a moment alone in the den, curling up on the couch to watch Liv puttering over in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner.

"She's perfect," Maddie said dreamily as she puffed on a joint, blowing smoke rings into the air.

"Yeah," he sighed equally as dreamily as he watched the love of his life moving around his mother's kitchen like she belonged there. "I love her so much, Mom."

"I know, darling." She smiled, rubbing her hand over his knee reassuringly. "I'm trying to be patient harassing you two about grandbabies."

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Just let me get the ring on her finger first, okay? Can you at least wait that long?"

He wasn't sure _he_ could.

But the ring finally arrived appropriately sized in early December and he spent the next two weeks getting it appraised and insured and, most importantly, finally beginning to plan the proposal in earnest.

Olivia's cousin Harrison, whom she had shared an apartment with when attending undergrad at Columbia (because, according to her, "the Popes don't do dorm room"), had extended them an invitation to a huge New Years Eve bash he was throwing on the rooftop of a new boutique hotel he had acquired in Soho (apparently he was quite the real estate mogul). Even though she and Harrison weren't as close as they used to be, they were still family, so Liv had jumped at the chance.

She wanted to introduce him to the circle of friends she used to be close to (and now seemingly only kept in contact with via Facebook) and was eager to bring him to all of her old haunts in New York.

Fitz just wanted _the _perfect opportunity to propose and New Year's Eve in New York City seemed to be the way to go. They decided to make a weeklong trip of it and spend Christmas in New York as well, foregoing most of the touristy things to pass the time the way _real_ New Yorkers did, which meant eating their way through some of the city's best restaurants and food trucks.

Liv had barely been back since she'd graduated and dragged him around the city to all of the places she missed, _including_ her favorite boutiques. She never passed up an opportunity to shop and Harrison's New Year's Eve party was certainly the perfect excuse, even though she'd packed about five different dress options for that night alone (his Livvie).

Fitz felt like a rom com cliché while he sat in a chair in the fitting area as she tried on dress after dress, spinning around him in each ensemble as he checked sports scores and stock stats on his iPhone.

He was mostly bored but enjoyed how happy Liv was and how much fun she was having trying things on. His interest finally skyrocketed when she came out in a sparkly long-sleeved red dress with a plunging neckline that displayed ample cleavage and a sinfully short hem that emphasized her fantastic legs.

He was viscerally reminded of the red hue she'd worn the day they met and struck by the magnitude of his nostalgic whiplash, he reached for her, pulling her into his lap. She yelped in surprise, her body immediately going limp and pliant as he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

"I'm buying this dress for you and you're wearing it on New Year's." His tone left no room for negotiation.

She giggled and brushed her hands through his hair as her eyes twinkled with happiness. "Okay, baby. If you insist." As she sauntered back to her dressing room, she nonchalantly said over her shoulder, "By the way, its two grand."

Fitz laughed.

Of _course_ the red siren dress that had made his cock hard the instant he'd seen her in it cost $2,000. Olivia Pope had probably _never_ met a thousand dollar dress she didn't like and then immediately buy (or, in this case, have her smitten soon-to-be fiancé buy for her). But he made good money and he wanted to see her in that dress (and then he wanted to see her _out_ of it), so he was going to buy it, two grand or not.

He wanted a lifetime of buying her expensive dresses.

The _only_ problem Fitz had was that he _still_ wasn't sure _how_ he should actually propose. He kept the ring on him at all times just in case the spirit moved him, but he was vehemently against public proposals (something he and Olivia were in agreement on) and wanted to do something quiet, romantic, and _private_, ideally in a place where they could immediately strip naked and consummate their engagement the proper way.

Harrison had been kind enough to put them up in one of his new hotel's finest suites, a massive 1,000 square foot monstrosity with a giant Jacuzzi tub, glass-walled shower (both built for two), giant king-sized bed, complimentary mini bar featuring top-shelf Champagne – Harrison knew they both loved Dom Perignon – and breathtaking floor-to-ceiling views of the city skyline.

It was the perfect backdrop for a romantic proposal.

Fitz thought about his favorite moments with Liv – all of the mornings spent in bed making love, eating food and getting drunk off expensive Champagne – and he decided that proposing over a Champagne breakfast would be the most natural and true to their relationship.

He made New Year's Eve dinner reservations at Per Se, arguably New York's finest – and most expensive – restaurant, one Liv had mentioned dying to go to when she'd been in college but had always been unable to afford. So Fitz booked the small private room overlooking Central Park and enjoyed plying her with the finest food and wine Thomas Keller and Co had to offer. She loved the meal so much he made a mental note to surprise her (he was eternally grateful that she loved surprises) with a trip to San Francisco and Napa Valley so that they could dine at The French Laundry too. He knew she would enjoy drinking her way through California wine country and made the decision to look into flights for Valentine's Day.

She was joyously buzzed as they left dinner and slid into the black town car he'd ordered to take them back to the hotel for the party. She signed happily as she laced her fingers through his and rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for dinner, baby. It was delicious."

"I know you've always wanted to go."

"Yeah and that $300 pre-fixe was never quite in my budget as a college student."

"So I'm glad that I get to be the person who took you there."

"Me too." She tilted her head up to look at him and the city lights reflecting in her eyes made her look so beautiful she took his breath away. He loved her so much he ached with it. He felt the outline of the ring box against his breast bone and had to tamper down the urge to just pull it out, say the words, make her his forever right there in the back of an Uber towncar.

Instead he kissed her, slow and sweet, languidly slurping the flavor of expensive wine off of her tongue as he reminded himself for the thousandth time that it would be best to wait.

When they arrived at the hotel, it was half past ten and the party was in full swing, packed with tons of people who looked like folk he'd never see in Vermont.

Several huge TVs mounted along the wall showed the scene in Times Square as a DJ spun in one corner by the door out to the roof deck, music blaring loudly through the speakers.

Liv promptly found Harrison in the crowd of revelers, dragging Fitz over to introduce them to one another and then bringing him around so he could meet all the friends she hadn't seen since Columbia.

He loved getting the opportunity to meet people who were close to Liv before they met.

Lately, as he'd been musing over the proposal, he thought of his life in two phases – BL and AL.

Before Liv and After Liv.

He could barely remember his life before her, who he was, what he did, how he got through the day not knowing that she existed and that she was out there waiting him. Her diverse crop of college buddies reminded him that they had lives before one another, and only served to steel his resolve that from now on they would spend their lives _together_.

He enjoyed her friends and wondered who she'd want to invite to the wedding and who he could get to tell him funny and embarrassing stories about her.

After making the rounds, he went to the bar and ordered himself a whiskey, watching Liv flit around the room in that figure-hugging red dress, laughing and catching up with her former posse.

He was of course biased but she owned the place.

In a sea of New York black, Liv's bright red dress matched her even brighter disposition, lively eyes and smile making her literally the most stunning vision in the entire room.

And she was all his.

At some point, she'd dragged Harrison back over to Fitz so they could talk alone – about the upcoming NFL playoffs (Harrison was a Giants fan, Fitz Patriots, so they immediately agreed to disagree), their careers (Harrison hoped his next acquisition would be a property he'd had his eye on in Brooklyn), the hotel (a life long dream finally realized), and, of course, about Liv.

"I've never seen her this happy, man," Harrison leaned in to say after she flew off to chat with a man in a very unusual leather pantsuit. Harrison's words touched him more than he could have ever expected; to know that _someone_ in Liv's family approved and saw the good that he brought to her life just as his family saw the good she brought to his.

"She's the love of my life," Fitz said without preamble.

"It shows."

"I'm gonna ask her to marry me," he blurted. He glanced down at the glass of whiskey in his hand almost as if in betrayal. Shit was strong.

Harrison's eyes widened in surprise. "Yeah? That's great! Congrats, man, congrats. I'd tell you not to fuck it up but Liv has good taste. She wouldn't be with you if you were the type to fuck it up. "

"Thank you . . . I think?"

Harrison smirked as someone across the room caught his eye and he moved to walk away. "Liv is the kind of chick who can take care of herself but doesn't want to. She acts tough, at first, but it _is_ an act. She's a romantic, she wants the fairytale, she wants that dude to sweep her off of her feet and make her feel safe enough to let _him_ take care of her." He looked at Fitz pointedly before he left. "She doesn't want to be her parents."

As Fitz watched Harrison cross the room to greet a friend, he ruminated over the man's words and remembered how long it had taken for Liv to agree to go out with him. Even though she had been his from the moment their lips touched up on that mountain, he still often thought of her as that fragile, skittish bird she'd been when they first met.

He knew that particular fear was why he was so nervous about the proposal.

He had told himself it was all because he wanted it to be perfect when really it was because he was terrified that the slightest glitch would spook her and scare her off for good. Like Harrison had said, a part of him was scared that she _would_ be like her parents and that she would bore of him and their relationship; that she would never be completely satisfied with their life together.

But the logical part of his brain knew better, because he saw the way that she looked at him; he felt how tightly she held onto him after they made love; he heard the way her breath caught in her throat when he leaned in to kiss her. He knew that she loved him as completely and endlessly as he loved her. And he could sense the difference in their relationship ever since her confrontation with her parents – she was more open and loving and committed than she'd ever been before that weekend.

It was freeing. It was right. It was real.

They belonged together.

He wanted to marry her and he knew that she wanted to marry him.

When he asked her, she would say yes.

He had no idea what the fuck else he was still waiting for.

A quick glance at his watch – a vintage Rolex that had been a Christmas gift from Liv, the consummate vintage shopper who knew he, like most men, had an affinity for timepieces – revealed that midnight was less than thirty minutes away.

As the DJ pumped up the music, Liv slinked over to where he stood by the huge open doors to the covered roof deck where the sparkling city skyline sprawled out as far as the eye could see. She had glass of champagne in one hand as she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up to kiss his lips. His arms immediately closed around her as she nuzzled her nose with his and they began to move together slowly, completely off the rhythm of the fast paced 90s hip-hop music currently playing.

He realized just how buzzed he was as he gazed down at her, top-shelf whiskey warming his blood as one palm molded to her ass while the other traced her cheek, the rest of the room fading away until it was just the two of them.

The sounds around them simmered to a dull roar and the only person in the entire city of New York who existed to Fitz in that moment was Olivia.

They stayed just like that, gazes locked, arms wrapped tightly around the other as they swayed to the music irrespective of the beat, stealing kisses along the way as the party went on around them.

She was perfect and beautiful and sexy and _his_, and he wanted her forever, and as the final minute countdown began, the room loudly buzzing with excitement, he tuned it all out, only vaguely aware of the noise as he kissed her, deep and full, her plump lower lip falling from his mouth with a loud pop.

He loved that lower lip, and the brightness of her eyes, and the way she smelled like an exotic flower he'd never been quite able to identify, and the way she laughed loudly and obnoxiously when he told a stupid joke.

He loved the way that she stroked his hair, fingers raking over his scalp, and the way she knew with one look into his face just exactly what he was feeling.

He loved her confidence and her selflessness and her beauty and her grace and when he imagined a lifetime of adoring her, it filled him up with so much joy he thought he might burst with it.

_Ten ! . . . _

_Nine ! . . . _

_Eight ! _

"I love you," he murmured against her lips, her eyes sparkling at his words.

_Seven ! . . . _

_Six ! . . . _

_Five !_

"I love you too, baby," she said, twirling a lock of hair at the nape of his neck around her finger.

That gesture was all it took.

Something inside of him broke.

_Four! . . . _

_Three! . . . _

_Two !_

"So marry me."

_One! . . . _

_HAPPY NEW YEAR!_

She gasped just as the cacophony of sound exploded around them, cheers and laughter and Auld Lang Syne filling the air.

He barely had time to register the shock in her eyes transforming to bliss before he followed the urge – and holiday-appropriate tradition – to kiss her, pulling that lower lip between his as he tilted his head and devoured her. She whimpered, leaning her body into his, the Champagne-free hand sliding from his neck to clutch his shoulder as she welcomed his tongue, giving as good as she got, and it was only when they broke apart to breathe that she cried "YES!" with tears streaming down her cheeks.

The explosion of surreal disbelief and sublime happiness he felt was indescribable.

All he could do was follow the instinct to bend his knees and swoop her up, twirling her around in his arms as he kissed her over and over and over again until they were both breathless and crying and murmuring "I love you" in between each peck.

And then he remembered his no public proposals pact and pulled her outside onto the patio, the city sights and sounds the perfect backdrop as he tucked them into a quiet corner, away from all the drunken party revelers, so he could sink to one knee and do it all over again properly.

He'd barely flipped open the lid of the box before she was on her knees too, bare legs, in her short dress, nodding and sobbing as he asked her again, "Livvie. Baby. Love of my life. My heart and my soul. The best thing that has ever happened to me." His voice broke as he pushed on, "Will you be my wife?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" She cried, brushing at the tears streaming down her cheeks as he reached for her left hand to slide the ring – vintage, 4 carats, cushion cut, just like she wanted – on her finger, his heart swelling with pride at the way her jaw dropped and she gaped at the shine of the diamond sparkling on her finger. "Oh my God!"

"You like it?"

"I _love_ it," she gasped, holding her hand out so the ring could catch the light. "Its _huge_! How did you – _what_?"

He smirked, his chest puffing with pride as he brushed a hand over the stone and thrilled at the fact that he had been right. She did love it. "It's an antique, from the 'teens. French made with an Edwardian platinum and diamond setting. Whatever that means."

She laughed through her tears and leaned up to kiss him and he really would have to thank Big Jerry for the jeweler recommendation. The ring he'd found there had been perfect for Olivia and while it had _not_ come cheap (to put it mildly), his senior partnership salary allowed him to pay for it in full. Perhaps another thing to be grateful to Big Jerry for.

"I love it _so_ much. _So_ much. SO much. Oh my God!"

She couldn't stop staring at it and he couldn't stop feeling smug pride at how perfectly it fit her finger, not only in size but in scale. It looked great on her hand. And yeah, it wasn't a small rock. Someone would see that sparkler from across a room and they would know she was spoken for; she was his.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, deep and hungry and wild, and his cock ached with anticipation and excitement over what a great time they were going to have consummating this engagement.

They just kissed and nuzzled and stared at the ring she was finally wearing on her hand for a while before she laced their fingers together and dragged him inside. He was still in a daze, in a Livvie-induced haze as she marched right over to Harrison to break the news, who promptly made an announcement to everyone at the party and the room then exploded in cheers and applause. Liv's old friends rushed over to offer congratulations and fawn over the ring, while Harrison ordered a round of Champagne on the house to celebrate his "cuz" Livvie's impending nuptials.

So they drank and danced and kissed the night away, finally stumbling back into their suite just after three a.m. thoroughly drunk and exhausted. But fueled by alcohol and excitement over their betrothal, they tumbled into a pile of limbs on the mattress and made love until dawn.

When he woke up wrapped around Liv sometime after 10 A.M., the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was their tangled fingers on the mattress, the diamond holding pride of place on her left hand ring finger glinting in the slivers of sunlight filtering through the curtains. Kissing her bare shoulder, he reached for the phone as quietly as possible so as not to disturb her and ordered them that Champagne breakfast he'd originally been planning for his proposal.

Except now, it was to celebrate.

Afterwards, they lay sprawled across the bed naked and tangled in sheets, room service tray pushed to the corner of the room, while he pressed hot open mouth kisses over her stomach as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

She moaned, licking her luscious plump lips, scissoring her legs restlessly beneath him as he licked a trail down the smooth skin of her pelvis to the top of her sex, pressing a kiss to her soft bare flesh. He stared up at her hotly, over her flat quivering stomach, past the delectable valleys of her breasts, cock throbbing against his thigh as he locked eyes with her and realized, _my fiancée_.

As he marveled over the joy and excitement that thought brought him, another quite randomly crossed his mind. "Can I ask you something?" He continued enjoying her, luxuriating in mapping her nude skin with his lips and teeth and tongue as he awaited her response.

She nodded as her left hand continued to rake through his hair while she cupped her breast with her right, twirling her nipple into a puckered peak. He grinned at the sight, grunting when a few strands got stuck in the facets of her ring and lightly tugged on his scalp. "Of course," she huffed breathlessly.

"Why wax?"

He slid two fingers down the wet folds of her hairless heat and she sucked in a sharp breath, thrusting her hips into his hand, nostrils flaring, eyes darkening with the black swallowing the brown as she gazed at him, a slow smile spreading on her lips.

"Why? You don't like it?" She was panting, licking her lips as she leaned up on her elbows to stare down at what he was doing, spreading her knees wider to give him greater access to the apex of her thighs.

He chuckled, "Oh, I love it." He slurped on her slick flesh to emphasize his point and she cried out, whining when he pulled back with a loud pop and smirked up at her. If it was possible, she looked even more beautiful from this angle, with him between her legs gazing up into her face, and he thought – _my wife_. "But I'd love it no matter what."

"Well I wouldn't," she said, her body pulsing as he nibbled on the flesh of her inner thigh, nuzzling his nose into her skin to inhale her scent.

He teased her, and himself, and he had a lot of fun doing it.

"I've tried everyth . . ." she whimpered when he suddenly inserted a finger into her core and began to slowly stroke her clit with his thumb. "But this is what I like mo – oh God, you're sooooo good at that," she whined, thrusting her hips into his face to reach more of his suddenly darting tongue.

He was ready to be inside of her now and made quick work of her orgasm, his stomach clenching with anticipation as he slid up her quivering body, making a brief detour at her perfect breasts to love them with his tongue. When she wrapped her legs high and tight around him (God but he _loved_ how flexible she was), welcoming him into the snug delta between her thighs, he pulled her into a slow, sweet kiss so she could taste herself on his tongue. He blindly rubbed the head of his throbbing heat along her folds and she shuddered beneath him, arching her back as he mated their bodies in one long, firm jerk of his hips.

Tears filled both their eyes when he sought out her left hand to press a kiss to the large diamond sparkling there as he began moving in earnest.

She was so tight, so warm, and so wet, her lithe frame writhing against his, slick heat rippling around him so tight he could barely breathe, and they rolled and jerked their hips together, gazes locked as they kissed and thrust and moved as one.

His hand found her clit, stroking it to the rhythm of their lovemaking, and he watched the magic explode behind her irises as she came around him, eyes blown wide as they remained fixed on his, and he had no choice but to follow her into paradise, her fluttering core wrenching him dry. The rush of a life-affirming orgasm rolling through him like a tidal wave as he stared into her big brown eyes, their gazes locked and never breaking away.

He collapsed on top her with a groan and she giggled. Licking a stripe up his neck that made him twitch and his still twitching cock flex inside her, she turned her head to inhale his scent and locked her legs high around his waist to pull him closer.

Their thighs stuck together with a mixed combination of their releases, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat and God he felt so fucking good, so fucking perfect and happy and sore and wonderful and loved and FUCK, he could die now, just like this, and it would have all been worth it because he was loved and he had _lived_.

But then she's stroking his back and his hair and pressing kisses into his skin, sinking deeper into the mattress almost effortlessly and he tries to shift to spare her his massive weight and she whimpers, yanking him back down, pulling him into her where he sighs deeply.

"You feel so good," he breathed, nuzzling her neck to press a kiss to her flushed skin.

"So do you," she said dreamily, and he forced himself up on his elbows just far enough to look down into her face.

Vision clearing now, he took in dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, wild hair and lips bee stung from his kisses.

She looked like she'd been fucked within an inch of her life. Dewy and sated and satisfied. Her beauty was ethereal. She was so sublimely perfect in every way he wanted to just throw her over his shoulder and rush her to city hall to marry her that very instant.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" She asked softly. "You're looking at me like…."

"What?"

She shrugged a shoulder and he followed the motion with his lips so he could kiss her. "I dunno. Just… that look you give me that makes me feel all gooey inside."

"You're so beautiful and perfect and you're mine." She was absent-mindedly twirling the ring around her finger and – _God_. He couldn't wait to watch her do that every day for the rest of their lives.

She grinned, sighing dreamily, "I _am_ yours."

"Every day I look at you and I just . . ." He traced the line of that adorable button nose, chuckling when she wrinkled it at him and scrunched up her face playfully. "I have no words that could ever adequately describe how deeply I love you and how grateful I feel to be loved by you in return."

His voice broke and he was not embarrassed or ashamed because _he loved her that much_, so when tears filled her eyes he had to kiss her again, until they were breathless, and then he nuzzled her neck and murmured her name like a prayer. "_Livvie_."

"Hi."

"Thank you for saying yes.

She grinned. "Thank you for _finally_ _asking_." He chuckled at that. "I thought I was going to go crazy waiting." She nipped at the line of his throat teasingly and he fought back a growl.

"Me too," he whispered, and snuck another glance at the ring on her hand. He loved seeing it there, knowing what it meant and what it signified.

It made him feel safe.

_She_ made him feel safe.

"And thank you for my ring. It's even better than I could have ever dreamed."

"I had a little help from Big Jerry."

She gasped, and when he turned to look at her, her eyes were filled with tears and then, so were his. "Fitz. That's-"

"Yeah," he said gruffly, "I know."

They _both_ knew what a big deal that was.

She reached up with her left hand to brush a tear from his cheek and joked as a way to lighten the mood, "Aww, you big softie."

"Hey. We're engaged and naked and I'm still inside you and feeling very emotional right now, cut me some slack."

She giggled and pressed a warm, soft kiss to his lips. When she nibbled on his lower lip and slurped his tongue into her mouth, his cock flexed, thickening inside of her, and he cursed as his hips began to involuntarily tilt into hers.

"Already?" Liv laughed, her walls reflexively constricting around him, and he moaned as he continued to roll his hips into hers in a way that made their toes curl. "I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow," she whined in a tone that told him she didn't mind at all, arching into his touch to meet him thrust for thrust.

Turns out, they were both sore, but it was worth it.


End file.
